Trauma
by Raphaella
Summary: Something catastrophic happens in a once quiet town, turning a seemingly straight forward mission into a confusing mess. Now, Cid must piece together fragmented bits of his memory to figure out what happened, all the while trying desperately to discover the reason for Vincent's consequential memory loss... Yaoi M/M
1. Trauma

**Trauma**

/

**AN:** So, I've had this written out for at least a full year, but for I lost the nerve to post it [insert chicken noises].This has just been sat on my hard drive for ages so I thought I'd put it up, just for the hell of it. It's unfinished, but I have a few chapters written out and will update every Monday until I catch up with myself. Though don't worry, I won't be ignoring Journey. Also, please note, I'm not a doctor, but I tried.

/

"What've we got?" A clipped female tone demanded, rushing over to the gurney. Blood pooled onto the floor.

"Massive head trauma, multiple gun-shot wounds to the chest and shoulder – unable to determine exit wounds. Patient was found unconscious in a collapsed building. No witnesses –"

"Shit, is that blood in the iris?"

"No pupil response –"

"Did you see that man's ey –"

"Let's get him to the ER, people! Get me an ET tube – lungs have been punctured! Get some compression on that artery –"

The hospital was a blur with urgent motion. Patients with relatives and friends watched in horror as the gurney was wheeled out of sight to the emergency room, murmurs filtered through the bustle of doctors and nurses. The corridor was left in relative silence. Only the puddles of red on the floor remained.

Inside the ER, the trauma team dashed about, blood already staining their uniforms and hands. A vial full was taken quickly to match against an obviously needed blood transfusion as the endotracheal tube was quickly taped securely to a cheek. A succession of barks and orders controlled the chaos as the victim was prepped for immediate surgery.

"Looks like five entry wounds," the woman called, cutting away the bloodied clothing restricting their job. It came away in a sodden mess. "Get a press on that head inju – AAAIIHHH!"

The team of doctors and nurses leapt back with gasps and a scream as two huge objects ripped themselves from the victim, catching the equipment trolley and flinging it across the room. Blood sprayed across the walls and ceiling, across the medical team.

"What the FUCK are those?" A male surgeon cried, back pressed against the wall, splattered in red. Eyes wide in horror.

No one moved for a moment, silent, staring in shock at the _thing_ in the center of the room. The female doctor approached cautiously. She reached a hand out to touch a leathery wing.

"_Devil_," someone whispered in fear.

She, along with the rest gasped sharply as a mysterious black aura rose from the figure, curling ethereally around the wounds where they swirled and lingered. The wings drooped slowly to the floor, limp and motionless.

The female doctor scoured her eyes over the young man on the table, in a state of moderate shock. Her mind was reeling, fighting against the healer and the instinct to back away quickly. She hesitated before approaching closer, watching the man's ragged breathing around the ET tube, his expression of pain, the blood slowly trickling from his body. The flow had decreased – whatever the small clouds of strange, glowing energy were, they seemed to be stemming the flow.

"_What the hell is he_?" Rasped a nurse, her voice high with fear. She was pressed against the furthest wall. A line of blood had caught her face.

"It's a monster – get it out of here!" Cried another female nurse, hysteria in her tone.

The female doctor turned to her sharply. "He's still a patient," she said firmly, cool eyes narrowing. "Lock that door," she jerked her head to the entrance. "No one sees this. Let's get this man cleaned up quickly, and then figure out what the hell to do with him."

The male surgeon detached himself reluctantly from the wall, staring at her as though she'd grown two heads. "You can't be serious…?" His voice was shaky.

"We're healers, we _heal_," she told him forcefully, steadying the quaver in her voice.

"Look at him!" The man screamed, eyes wild.

"I see a man who's injured," the doctor told him levelly, swallowing back her own fear. She narrowed her eyes at the occupants of the room, and then surged forward to treat the man by herself. If she ignored the two bloodied, demon wings, the patient was almost normal.

Reluctantly, slowly, the other staff joined her.

The surgeon removed the bullets, all five of them, although he remarked that the patient's body was forcing the metal out anyway, slowly but surely. He repaired the damaged lung and a broken collar bone – a process that should have taken many long hours given the mess of the man's body, but which in fact took half the time due to the incredible healing work of his abnormal constitution. They stitched, cleaned and dressed the wounds, including the potentially fatal gash on the man's forehead that had been far worse upon his admittance. The team was silent as they worked, afraid and shaken, but committed to their duty. A chest drain was inserted into the man's left side, removing residual blood and fluids from the chest cavity and easing the pressure.

They were about to breathe a sigh of relief when the patient stirred prematurely, moaning around the ventilator tube in his throat. His Adams apple bobbed, trying to work around the intrusion as his head began to roll.

"Impossible," the surgeon said quietly. "He couldn't regain consciousness so soon!"

"I think we've established this patient isn't normal," a male nurse said shakily.

"Can you hear me?" The female doctor leaned close to the patient's face, wary of the wings now shifting sedately. "It's okay, you're safe." She said loudly and clearly. Her team had taken a step back.

The man's hands rose sluggishly to the tube, feeling blindly where it disappeared down his throat. The doctor took his hand away gently, but he fought her weakly, desperate to remove the tube strapped to his face.

The doctor looked at her staff. "Remove the ventilator," she ordered, trying to restrain his hands. The man was becoming increasingly agitated. Not good in his state. "Quickly."

They did as they were told. One nurse was knocked harmlessly by a wing as the man struggled more and more. Once the tube was removed, the man swallowed, disorientated and pained.

"Can you tell me your name?" The female doctor asked, holding his struggling hands softly but firmly. The IV in his right hand tangled around her own wrist.

The man gasped, his breath free. He swallowed constantly, his eyes fluttering, squeezing but never opening. "Wh -where is he?" He whispered, his voice deep but weak.

"There were several others involved in the explosion so far," the doctor said calmly. "But we need to know what happened. First, can you tell me your name?"

The man swallowed, squinting against his confusion and pain. He attempted to get up but was pushed back gently. "Where'm' I?" He breathed.

"You're safe. But it's important you tell me your name –you suffered a severe head injury and we need to check your memory."

The man's brow creased and twitched constantly as he tried to access whatever recollection he could. He swallowed again and shook his head, wincing as the pain blossomed in his head. "I don't… I can't…"

"It's okay," the doctor soothed, squeezing his wrist comfortingly. "It's very likely temporary – hey, _hey_ – lay down."

The man tried to sit, to pull his hands from the woman's grip, but he was too weak and was easily subdued. His wings knocked the up righted trolley again, but he didn't seem to notice they were even there.

"Calm down, you're still in surgery," the doctor told him, attempting to push him back down. He continued to squirm against her. "By all rights you shouldn't even be able to move. You've suffered life-threatening injuries."

"I need to… need to find him," the man groaned, his words slurred. His eyes fluttered open for the first time. His eyes still ruby red. It wasn't blood in the iris.

"Lay still," the doctor commanded, eyeing the wing nearest as it jerked from the floor. "You're body has been through a traumatic experience. You need to rest."

"Where am I?" He mumbled again, struggling against her and now another pair of hands.

"You're in Mayac Town hospital," the doctor said patiently, eyeing the chest drain tugging at the swollen skin in the side of his chest. He probably didn't even feel it amidst the rest of his pain. "Do you know where that is?"

"Hos…" He whispered, breathless as the hands managed to lay him flat once again. "Hospital…" He appeared calm for a moment, and the doctor hoped that something had sparked a memory. But his insistent goal to sit up renewed, only this time he was struggling fiercely. "No, no –"

"Whoa, hey, just calm down," the doctor said, an urgency creeping into her tone as his squirming became frantic and stronger. His huge wings knocked at the equipment in the room, taking off a chunk of plasterboard from the wall; they were too large for such a confined space. "Sedate him!" she barked.

"No… no, no," the man chanted sluggishly, thrashing in his weak attempt to free himself. His red eyes flashed as they caught sight of a nurse approaching quickly with a syringe, and his struggling became frantic. "No –"

"Calm down!" The doctor called over the noise of his commotion. The surgeon and nurses fought to restrain his flailing limbs, dodging away from the powerful wings as they up-ended one of the machines, luckily not in use. It crashed to the floor loudly.

"No – don't –" The man moaned desperately, fighting his resistors as they pinned him back down onto the table. The chest drain, miraculously, was still in place, but had ripped at the tender skin on his side. His gunshot wounds were being torn open by his movements. Blood was beginning to stain the dressings. "No!"

The nurse successfully managed to insert the syringe into a well pinned arm, depressing the plunger. The patient jerked and cried out, squirming anew, biting his lip and drawing more blood. But his actions didn't cease, and he continued to struggle against the medical staff.

"Th – there's no effect," the nurse cried.

"Double the dosage!" The doctor demanded, almost getting elbowed in the face. The leathery membrane of the closest wing bashed into her back, nearly sending her sprawling.

The nurse dashed back to the cabinet to prepare another sedative as the doctor attempted to verbally calm the strange patient. He was having none of it, driven by fear and confusion. He had lost a lot of blood and suffered extensive wounds – it was incredible for anyone in his state to still be fighting. He couldn't possibly be thinking straight, but it was possible that his reaction was instinctual – understandable given his apparent secret.

The nurse returned quickly with another syringe, acting too quickly for the patient to see. The sedative was injected once again, and after a few seconds of no effect, his movements weakened considerably and his protests died down as the sedative pumped through his veins.

"Shhh," the doctor hushed against his continued 'no's. He seemed incredibly apprehensive, even in his disorientated state. His long black hair was a bloodied, tangled mess, his pale skin in contrast cleaned of blood. The wings relaxed and the nurses slowly released their hold. "You're fine, calm down."

"The effect is still inefficient," the nurse whispered, catching a wavering hand and setting it back down.

"… Triple his original dosage," the doctor said quietly, her gray eyes on the patient as he writhed weakly, still battling the sedative. "Administer another 20ccs of benzodiazepine on top… and set up the third isolation room down on level G. No one else learns about this patient, got that?" She glared around the room as the nurse jogged, once again, to the cabinet.

"Authorities?" The surgeon questioned.

"Eventually," the doctor answered, turning her eyes back to their patient as the nurse injected the third dose of sedative. He moaned softly and stilled completely, finally succumbing. "I want to run a few scans, first… and know what we're dealing with here…"

/

**AN:** 20ccs and benzodiazepine was googled - so I'm not sure if they're correct. If anyone who knows more than I do wants to help me out I'll take it : )


	2. Casualties

**Trauma**

.

**AN**: Forgot to mention this is post-Dirge of Cerberus, but Vinnie still has Chaos. I like to think Chaos didn't return to the Planet, and for this story, he didn't.

Also, Gen is pronounced Jen.

/

_Nine Hours Earlier…_

"…not the usual cases we receive, and they sound highly intelligent. A bad combination when mixed with aggression. I understand your concern, Mayor…"

Reeve's clipped tone floated from the gap in his office door. The WRO commander who was waiting patiently outside glanced through, watching the commissioner's back against the bright white of the glass wall, one hand to his ear as he spoke on his phone.

"I'll assemble a team of my most experienced handlers. It sounds like you have a very dangerous situation down there…. Yes, of course. I'm sorry to hear of those losses; your enforcement couldn't have anticipated such monsters. My men will be in Mayac Town within the hour. Your suspicion of Lifestream exposure troubles me. We encountered a similar incident recently, and the results were deadly… I think it best if you cordon off the area and avoid all possible contact. These creatures are highly infectious. Mayor, if you have any injured men then get them to a hospital quickly." He paused as he listened to the voice on the other end. "My men are properly attired, but I will be assigning a man to the team who is immune. Rest assured, Mayor… thank you. I will contact you again with my team's results. Goodbye."

A single beep indicated the terminated connection, and the WRO commander took his queue to knock once and enter. Reeve turned to greet him.

"Commander Gen, have you assembled our team?" Reeve asked, setting his phone down on his polished desk.

The commander nodded, standing to attention. "Yes, Sir. We're ready to dispatch with Shadowfox four. We're simply awaiting our… _leader_."

Reeve smiled thinly. "I wouldn't call Vincent a 'leader'. But he has far more experience with rare monsters than our Creature Division has. He may not be the best communicative solider, but his skills are invaluable."

"'Skills', yeah…" Commander Gen mumbled cynically.

Reeve offered an empathic but stern look. "I recognize your caginess around Vincent. But I trust the man, and I expect my men to be respectful to him at all times. Understood?"

It was an old argument. Commander Gen nodded stiffly, saluting before he was dismissed.

Reeve continued to watch the door after he'd left, wondering when Gen would finally hit his limit and refuse to work alongside Vincent. It was no secret he disliked the gunman, but his camouflaged distrust was, unfortunately, a deep-set pool of fear.

_Present Time_

Yuffie jumped aside before the sliding doors had fully opened, narrowly missing a collision with an incoming patient strapped to a gurney. The woman was moaning weakly as doctors and nurses rushed after, calling out various medical orders. The young girl entered the white waiting room, watching the scene disappear behind double doors. She was slightly surprised to see such a busy waiting room, but with the recent incidents currently disrupting Mayac Town it seemed reasonable.

The doors behind her opened again as Yuffie reached the curved reception desk, and a gust of renegade wind blew at her bandana tails. They caught the attention of the receptionist who had the phone between her ear and shoulder and was typing rapidly on her computer keyboard. She paused to hold up her index finger to Yuffie, mouthing 'one minute' before turning back to her dual tasks.

Yuffie turned to survey the rest of the waiting room. She was accustomed to absorbing details of her surroundings subconsciously, but she took the time to study the people in the room, watching as families chatted to each other over whatever it was that had brought them there, to friends wringing their hands nervously, waiting for someone in scrubs to approach them. Some people appeared to be on their own, sitting motionlessly in the chair area or reading to pass the time. There were so many contrasting atmospheres, that Yuffie found herself engrossed in people-reading and didn't hear the receptionist until she spoke again.

"I'm looking for the WRO soldiers who were injured in the building explosion," Yuffie told her, leaning on the high counter. "I think they might have been brought in to this hospital."

The receptionist's face took on a flicker of sadness mingled with professional composure. "We received three WRO soldiers, one male and two female who arrived about seven hours ago." She paused. "The doctors did everything they could for the man, but his injuries were too severe. I'm sorry." She rifled through some papers on her desk. "The two women are still in ICU. Commissioner Tuesti was notified shortly after their admittance."

Yuffie nodded, she had been informed on this. "They were a part of a unit of eleven. Do you know where the others are? It's possible they might not've been identified as WRO."

The receptionist consulted her papers again, grey eyes skimming the list of arrivals. She reeled off seven entries of patients admitted around the same time whose names were unknown, although two were confirmed civilians who had been caught in the blast.

Yuffie was directed to each room so she could confirm their WRO identities. It was a small relief to find that three men and another woman were recovered from the nameless-system to rejoin the ranks, but it was short lived; that left four WRO members missing, and although the ones in the hospital had been found, three of them were in serious condition.

Yuffie dug her phone from her shorts pocket and hit speed dial. On the third ring Reeve answered. "You were right, I found four of them. Peechers, Tommer, Gar and Hall. Their uniforms had been pretty much destroyed, they had no ID on them."

"At least I can notify families," Reeve sighed wearily over the phone.

"Reeve… Tommer and Hall are in critical condition," Yuffie said carefully. "They might not make it…"

Reeve paused for a long moment. "Understood…" He said nothing for a long moment, and Yuffie could picture him staring bleakly at a glass of whisky on his desk, slumped in his chair. He had been hoping there would be no fatalities in this unexpected disaster. He had been hoping he hadn't sent eleven of his men into a potential deathtrap. "Any word on the other six?"

Yuffie shuffled back a little in the corridor as a trolley was wheeled past her. "Rescue teams are still sorting through the rubble…" she said finally.

A soft, dejected sigh filtered through the phone. "Gods… What _happened_, Yuffie? Tell me you've heard something?"

Yuffie winced softly, lifting her eyes to the door she had exited a minute ago. "No one knows the cause. Local authorities told me the explosion happened somewhere on the first couple of floors, enough to destabilize the foundation and bring the whole thirteen stories down… But they have no evidence to even _guess_ what caused it. Not until they've reached the bottom…"

She could hear Reeve's clothes rustling as he shifted position. "How many civilian casualties?"

"Three that I know of, but they were pulled from the surrounding wreckage. Not the building itself."

"That building was in a state of abandonment, though?" Reeve questioned, his frown evident in his tone. "There'd be no reason for them to be inside."

"Yeah, but then what was the CD doing in there…?"

"I don't know… they didn't report back to me. All I know is that they eliminated the monster threat, were all set to return to base, and didn't make it…" He paused. "Any word on Vincent's location?"

Yuffie shook her head softly, even though Reeve couldn't see. "No. You said Gen told you he'd left them when the creatures were destroyed."

Reeve was quiet for a few seconds, thinking. "Gen told me they'd be returning without Vincent, that he'd taken off with Cid. I don't believe for a second that either of them would ignore debriefing when the subject matter was so serious."

"You think they found something?" Yuffie asked, brow pinching in concern.

"I think it's possible… The CD managed to eliminate the monsters, that was their assignment, but I asked Vincent to investigate their origins. We believed they'd been exposed to Lifestream, and if that was so, it would be near Mayac, and Vincent would have sensed it. But… neither Cid nor Vincent are answering their phones…"

Yuffie lowered her eyes worryingly to the pristine, white floor. Vincent in all likeliness would ignore his phone, but Cid never would, not during a mission. "Could they have been in that building…?" Yuffie finally asked.

If the WRO, who were granted permission to return to base, had instead wound up inside the abandoned block of offices, it was obvious _something_ had led them there. Had the same thing led Cid and Vincent in, too?

Reeve exhaled audibly. "I hope not, Yuffie…" The young ninja felt a cold wave run down her spine at the undertone of fear in Reeve's voice. "I want you to ask around for them in the hospital, and around the disaster zone. Authorities will have apprehended witnesses for statements, so I want you to question them, too. Find whatever you can. I will continue to try Cid's phone."

"Okay," Yuffie said mechanically. Reeve ended the call and she lowered it slowly from her ear, only now aware she'd been pressing it fairly hard to her temple. She slipped it back into her pocket, took a breath and strode back down the corridor to the waiting room.

When she described Cid and Vincent to the receptionist, her response was disappointing. Due to the sheer injuries passing through the doors today, it was impossible to see whether or not some had blond hair or brown, let alone what their faces looked like. But the doctors could probably help, since the flow of emergencies had thankfully ceased and they weren't desperately busy.

"Doctor!" Yuffie called, catching up to a short-haired woman who was passing through the waiting room with a metal tray in one hand and a clipboard in the other. The doctor turned. "Can you help me? I'm looking for two men who were possibly caught in the explosion earlier today," Yuffie explained. Face to face the woman was only a few inches taller, yet in her late thirties.

"I'll try," the woman responded, her curt tone not unkind, but underlined with authority.

"One man had short blond hair, in his thirties, kinda rugged looking – but I suppose that would be obvious," Yuffie began. "He's got blue eyes, muscular, hasn't shaved… uh, he'd probably have been wearing flight goggles."

The doctor gave the description some thought as she ran through the day's events, but finally shook her head. "I'm sorry, I haven't dealt with anyone like that. I've been through all of today's patients and no one fits that description."

It was a huge relief but at the same time a heavy worry. "What about the other man? You couldn't miss him, he has red eyes – " At this the doctor's left eyebrow twitched minutely, and had Yuffie never been schooled in the ways of observation she would have missed it completely " – and long black hair. He's about six foot tall, really pale, slim… did I mention red eyes?"

The doctor said nothing for a second, letting her eyes linger on Yuffie's before she shook her head firmly. "No. I'm sorry…"

Yuffie deflated, dread settling into the pit of her stomach. If they were in hospital at least their location would be known, but with them still missing there was possibility – the hope – they were perfectly fine.

"Have you checked Middle Gate hospital?" The doctor offered, her gaze softening somewhat in Yuffie's despair.

"Is that far?" Yuffie asked.

"From the site of the explosion, our two hospitals are equally distanced," the doctor explained. "We received half of the victims before Middle Gate could get out emergency vehicles. We cover each other."

"I'll try there," Yuffie stated firmly. Without waiting for a response she turned and ran out.

The doctor watched her leave.

/

As the explosion site was directly between West Gate and Middle Gate Yuffie stopped by once again, having been there to gather details on the wounded. The whole block was cordoned off, dust still clouded certain areas, police vehicles barricaded the streets to the epicenter and rescue trucks rolled in and out, some carting off huge chunks of debris. People milled about listlessly, muttering about the incident or consoling those who were shaken and no doubt very nearly involved. A camera crew was filming the scene nearby.

The officer at the nearest road block recognized Yuffie from earlier, and offered her a list of witnesses she could question. Before she took off to find them, she cast a look at the devastated building at the end of the street, where firefighters and rescue workers were still attempting to dig into the rubble, still determined to find any more survivors under the tons of concrete. Medics with stretchers were on hand, and it was only when she saw them did she see the body bags nearby.

Without thinking she took off over the barricade, receiving a half-hearted reprimand from the officer. She ran until she approached the workers, earning the attention of a medic. Before he could question her presence there, she cut across him.

"I'm trying to find some men." She said, gesturing to the body bags several meters away by the side of an ambulance. "I might be able to identify them." She reinforced, brandishing her WRO emblem.

The medic complied, allowing her to view the bodies with a basic verbal description. They were all strangers. Two of them were so disfigured it was impossible to recognize their faces, but the shredded remains of their clothing and what remained of their hair was as good an indicator as any that they weren't Cid.

She was worried for Vincent, as well, but the secret reality was he couldn't rightly die. His unique ability to regenerate eliminated him from that fear, but that didn't mean he couldn't be hurt – and in substitution of his mortality, he was potentially extremely dangerous if he was ever severely injured. He couldn't control it, and though it had happened only twice, it had caused extensive damage. Chaos only broke free when Vincent's body was too weak to contain it. So surely, if Vincent had been involved in the explosion and had been fatally wounded, she (and everyone else) would know about it.

Cid must be alright then, somewhere. Because Cid would have been with Vincent… and if Vincent/Chaos wasn't somewhere blowing up mountains, then Cid wouldn't be dying somewhere dark and concrete… right?

Yuffie watched as the last body bag was zipped back up, trying to straighten out the thoughts rampaging through her head. Reeve hadn't texted or phoned her, and he would have done if he'd gotten through to Cid or Vincent. Try as she might to convince herself they were both alright, she knew by the simple fact that neither of them were answering that something was definitely wrong…

/

"Is the subject secure?"

"Yes, he's been fully sedated and restrained. Is he dangerous?"

"Extremely. You are not to interfere with his condition at all. We will be there shortly to collect him. I suggest you prepare a suitable exit for us. No prying eyes. No witnesses. Understand?"

"Yes…" The doctor answered uncertainly. Her brow furrowed in measured concern.

"This is a very sensitive situation."

"I understand… but he's – it's – not going to – to harm my staff in any way, right?"

"…How many of your staff have come into contact with him?"

"Just… just my trauma team."

"Assemble them upon our arrival. Tell no one, absolutely no one else about this man."

"Wait is there something – "the doctor began, but she was cut off.

"You will be owed an explanation later," the emotionless voice told her. "Thank you for your cooperation."

The phone clicked, and the dead tone of a disconnected line droned through. The doctor returned her personal phone to her pocket, feeling the twisting, cold concern irritate her gut. The one consolation was that the strange man down in level G would soon be out of her hospital…

/

His office had never felt this cold before. Reeve hunched his shoulders and stared blankly at the view from his office window. He had several phone calls to make, and he was dreading the repeated 'I'm sorry' to family members. But it had to be done, and by him only.

A soft knock on his door drew his attention to Shelke stepping slowly into his office, scrutinizing his demeanor.

"Come in," Reeve said, his voice tired. "Did you locate them?"

Shelke approached the desk, and only when she stopped did she answer. "I was able to hone in on six communicators belonging to Whisk, Gen, Hall, Tommer, Gar and Peechers. They were all converged in the same area."

"Yuffie said Tommer, Gar, Peechers and Hall had no identification on them," Reeve said. "It's safe to assume their communicators are underneath rubble. Which means so are Gen's and Whisk's," he took a deep sigh, "who are still missing."

"I was unable to locate the rest," Shelke said in her drone-like tone. She had been issued her own WRO uniform, unique to her design while maintaining the standard dress code.

"Even Cid's?"

Shelke said nothing, but she didn't need to.

Reeve hung his head heavily, closing his eyes and massaging his temples. A headache was pounding away, threatening to develop into a migraine.

"You mentioned Vincent was one of the MIA," Shelke said into the quiet that had descended. Reeve looked up at her. "Why have you not asked me to locate him?"

Reeve shook his head slowly. "Vincent doesn't have a WRO communicator."

"He has a locator on his phone," Shelke told the commissioner, as though he should have known. Reeve frowned at her. "During the Deepground affair, I made some modifications to Vincent's phone and at the time thought it tactically wise to insert a tracking chip into the components, so I could guide him efficiently through Deepground."

Reeve's eyes took on a more hopeful shine. "Then, please, try and locate Vincent's phone. Top priority."

She gave an affirming nod before turning on her heels and striding out. Reeve took a slow, deep breath and prayed to whatever heaven that she would return with good news.

/

The sun was setting and the air was cooling as Yuffie was invited into the terrace home of her third witness, taking a seat on the edge of a small sofa as the woman she had called upon sat opposite in an armchair, her husband perching on the arm.

"I'm sorry to bother you after everything that's happened today," Yuffie began," but I have a few questions to ask about the explosion."

"It's okay, I'm fine," the woman said, though she still sounded shaky. "But I gave the police all the details I can remember."

Yuffie nodded. "I know, but I want to ask you about the victims they pulled from the rubble. You were there when they rescued most of them, weren't you?"

The woman, a Mrs. Yuil, nodded, clutching her cardigan at the collar. "Ambulances arrived quickly, they were only a short distance away."

"Mrs. Yuil, I know this might be a long shot, but can you remember whether or not a man with blond hair was pulled from the rubble? Blue shirt, pilot goggles…?"

The woman's eyes drifted down as she tried to recall anyone fitting that description. "No. I'm pretty sure they didn't pull anyone out with blond hair. I was in a bit of shock, you see, and I was watching it all pretty intensely."

Yuffie felt like she'd swallowed a cold, heavy boulder. "What about a man with long black hair? He would have been dressed in black leather with a red cape."

The woman's eyes lit up. "Oh yes, I did see _him_."

Yuffie sat up straight so quickly she might have snapped a vertebra. "You did?" She breathed.

Mrs. Yuil nodded, picking up on the hopeful glimmer in the young girl's eyes. "He was one of the first. I heard rescue workers saying how lucky he was. I think he had been sheltered under a fallen beam. But he was covered in blood. They thought he was dead until the medics got to him."

"Where was he taken?" Yuffie demanded.

The woman faltered for a moment, blinking. "I assume he was taken to West Gate hospital. Their ambulances got there first."

Yuffie stared. West Gate, where they denied admitting anyone of Vincent's description. There was no possibility of a misunderstanding – how many patients had _red_ eyes?

So why had she been lied to?

/

She arrived back at West Gate when the moon was shining between the buildings and the air had cooled. The bright lights of the waiting room stung her eyes momentarily before they adjusted, and she looked around, hoping to see the doctor she had spoken to. Scenarios whirled through her head as she approached the reception desk again. Maybe Vincent had woken up in the ambulance and had taken flight. Maybe another doctor had seen to him, but he had recovered fast enough and left before the female doctor had seen him. Maybe it was something else completely.

"Hello again," the woman at the reception greeted, blinking patiently for Yuffie to speak.

"I was talking to a woman doctor earlier, short brown hair," Yuffie described. She was getting tired of descriptions today.

"Dr. Geoni," the receptionist recognized.

"I need to talk to her – she told me she hadn't seen a friend of mine, but I was told he _was_ brought in earlier today."

"I'm sorry, but it seems she's signed off for the night," the woman said, looking at a chart on the wall behind her. "If you're looking for someone else who was brought in I might be able to help."

Yuffie gave the name Vincent Valentine, despite knowing somehow that it wouldn't be on the woman's list. Shaking her head, the receptionist told her no one by that name had been admitted. Yuffie thanked her gruffly and turned from the desk, eyeing the corridor leading out of the waiting room.

"Excuse me," came a voice, and Yuffie turned to find a middle-aged woman in a green cardigan, looking exhausted but concerned. "I saw you here earlier when you were asking about your friend. I've been here all day, I think I saw who you were describing… you said he had red eyes…"

Yuffie nodded quickly. "Yeah – yeah he does, with long black hair. Did you see him? Was he alright?"

The woman seemed to sense how important this was to Yuffie. "He was on a gurney, pretty badly injured – I heard the doctors mention something about blood in his eye, but he was wheeled out of here really quickly." She gestured vaguely to the seating area. "Someone else in the waiting room had been close enough to see that, in fact, the man had red eyes, it's all I heard. But he had long black hair."

"That's him!" Yuffie explained, finally feeling a little of the molten led rise from her stomach. "When was this? Who was treating him?"

The woman looked uneasily into Yuffie's dark eyes. "The doctor you were talking to before. She was with him."

Yuffie's smile vanished. "What…? She lied…?" Why would she have lied?

The woman watched her carefully for a few seconds, having heard the exchange between the doctor and Yuffie and sensing something amiss. Making a quick decision, Yuffie thanked the woman, cast a glance around the waiting room for prying eyes and headed purposely for the corridor that led into the hospital. Thoughts bombarded her once again as this new information settled in. Vincent had been badly hurt by the sounds of it, but Chaos obviously hadn't broken free, which led her to believe he hadn't suffered anything ultimately fatal. But where was he now? She had seen firsthand the speed with which he recovered, he'd be almost back to normal by now if his injuries weren't serious. But her most worrying concern was the doctor's blatant lie…

She had just pushed through a set of double doors leading deeper into the building and into another white corridor when her phone began to ring. She fumbled for it in her pocket before glancing Reeve's name on the screen.

"Reeve, I think I've found Vincent," she said immediately, hushing her tones. The corridor was almost empty save for a single patient at the end and a nurse disappearing into rooms on each side of the corridor.

"You have?" Reeve asked. "That's the first bit of good news – and perhaps it coincides with mine: Shelke has pinpointed the location of Vincent's phone. It's _in_ West Gate hospital."

Yuffie quickly spilled all the information she'd gathered since they last spoke, lowering her voice even more when she recounted the doctor denying she had attended Vincent. Reeve was deeply concerned by this new development.

"You need to find Vincent," Reeve stressed. "I'm sending a small team of backup to your location in case you need them – I don't like this situation one bit…"

"Reeve, did you find Cid's communicator?"

"No… but let's hope that he's in that hospital somewhere…"

Yuffie hesitated. "What if he isn't…?"

"Vincent can sense him… You find Vincent, he'll find Cid. I'm sure of it."

It was a naïve sort of hope, but it provided all the motivation she needed. With a few more exchanges, Yuffie folded her phone and put it away. Now she was faced with the task of finding her missing teammate, in a hospital that seemed to be trying to deny his existence…


	3. Found

**Trauma**

/

**AN:** I have a nagging feeling that there's an anime or something out there called or involving 'Retrievers', (kinda like Get Backers) but I have yet to find it. If it exits... well... then my feeling was right 8-) Btw, thanks for your reviews, guys, as I said before I pretty much have this story written out, so I'm not sure whether to update twice a week instead of just Mondays. I keep finding typos and stuff even after reading everything, like, five times...

Hope everyone had a good weekend.

/

Directions for the important or unrestricted rooms and wings were found easy enough, printed clearly on board signs throughout the corridors, but Yuffie had no need for those locations. Whatever situation she was trying to unravel was obviously too discreet for publicly accessible rooms, given the lying she had been subjected to. So her instinctive destinations were mainly anything that cautioned against entry, and all staff-only admittance. She found no trouble sneaking about, but after what seemed like hours of searching for some clue, it felt like time was running out.

Stepping into a previously locked room with no label, she found herself in what looked like the pharmacy storage; a long, windowless room lit dimly by square ceiling lights. Shelves lined either side, some caged behind mesh wire where the more dangerous items sat.

About to turn around, Yuffie caught sight of another door at the far end of the room, with a small window about eye level. She crept towards it and peered out into another sterile, deserted, corridor. She tried the door handle but it was locked. That didn't deter her.

She had it picked barely half a minute later, listening to the successful click of the lock pins as they gave way to her handy pick, which she stashed back into hiding on her person. She eased the door open and glanced down the corridor. Although the general theme of white and barren walls and floors was the same throughout the hospital, this corridor seemed much foreboding, forbidden almost. There were no windows, no pictures, no seats… no anything that would attempt to make a visitor or staff member feel a fraction of comfort. The lighting was dimmer than the main hospital, giving off a vague, sickly ocher. Yuffie thought of horror movies.

There were double doors at the left end, but the right disappeared around a corner. However, along the bland walls to her left she spotted a single white door just before the pair, which almost blended in completely. Choosing to investigate it first, she made her way towards it stealthily, her footsteps silent.

There was a staircase behind the door, leading both up and down, further into the bowels of the building. She went down, checking above and below her frequently until she came to what must have been the lowest levels of the hospital. Pipes ran along the ceiling above her, the floor felt like white-painted concrete and the temperature was cool. There were several doors down the hall she entered, but none had a window to see through, and they were all locked.

About to whip out her lock-picking tools again, Yuffie's ears immediately pricked when the sound of voices began approaching. She stole away back into the staircase seconds before a woman appeared from the far end of the corridor. Listening closely, Yuffie recognized her voice. Dr. Geoni.

"…informed me of their arrival into Mayac. I want you gather the rest of the trauma team that worked on him. Except for Mike… I just… I don't know, there's something I don't quite like about these people…"

"If they can get rid of this monster then they can't be too bad, can they?" Came a second female voice.

There was a sigh as the voices stopped a few meters away from the staircase exit. "I don't think he's a monster… and… I don't know, I'm not sure if handing him off to these _Retrievers_ is the best thing to do…" The jingle of keys in a lock followed her words.

"It – he – can't stay here, Tena. What would you do? Wake him up? He could be dangerous – hell, he's already damaged the walls, for crying out loud, and he wasn't even properly awake. _And_ he's resisting the _meds_, Tena… If he were human he'd be chemically comatose by now, if not dead, and soon we won't have anything strong enough to give him." She paused. "We could have just been really lucky, did you think about that? He's not human, Ten, and not human is definitely bad."

Dr. Geoni said nothing as the silence hung in the air for a second, and then the tell-tale click of the door opening met Yuffie's ears and she sensed their baited breath as whatever they did next hung thick in the air. She heard a single pair of footsteps move into the room; presumably the other woman remained where she was.

Yuffie replayed the conversation, her heart leaping at the possible connotation behind the two women's exchange.

It _had_ to be him.

Dr. Geoni returned from the room a long minute later and it was again shut up and locked. "He's starting to wake again." She sounded troubled. "I gave him another dose strong enough to kill a Vlakorados, but it won't be long before he adapts to that… I hope these Retrievers have a more effective sedative…"

"_I_ hope they have a discreet way of getting him _out_ of here… no amount of tarpaulin is going to hide those things…"

Their footsteps trailed away along with their voices, until Yuffie heard the distant sound of a pair of double doors opening and closing. She waited a further few seconds before stepping out into the corridor, knowing from the proximity of the two doctors' voices which door they had been standing at.

Silently, she applied her talents to the lock once again, pausing in her actions to listen carefully, aware she was in a potentially compromising situation. The corridor was quiet. Yuffie tried the handle and slowly pushed open the door.

It appeared to be an equipment storage room, halved into two sections by a partition wall directly before Yuffie. There was no window; the room was dark, lit only by a single swivel-head lamp in the left half, trained on the only other person there besides Yuffie.

She was startled, at first. She hadn't been expecting what she saw, and she had never seen Chaos up close before. No amount of monster-hunting lifestyle could brace anyone for the sight. But she caught herself and moved forward, to the bed that had been locked in place in the center of the equipment units and medicine cabinets, where her friend and 'family' was bound to the mattress. His hands and feet had been bound with bed restraints, and there was a single, thick strap securing his shoulders down.

"Vincent," she breathed, eyes skimming over the cuffs, to the various gauze bandages, down to the huge wings that lay lifeless on the floor either side of the bed. They were too big for the room, and had been curled in and secured with what looked like medical slings. Why had he half-transformed?

Shuffling closer quickly, aware she could have very little time, Yuffie fumbled for her phone and quickly texted out a message to Reeve, choosing the silent option of communication. Stuffing it back in her pocket she allowed her eyes to scour Vincent's motionless form. A tube had been inserted into his throat, connected to a machine behind him which hummed away. Yuffie swallowed. Why did she have to get these tasks?

"Just, uh… bear with me, Vinnie," she whispered, reaching out hesitantly to the tube. She paused. What if she did something wrong and he choked? Or worse, flat lined? _Could_ he flat line? Chaos would surely break free, and she wasn't sure if that would be good or bad.

There was an intravenous drip taped to the back of his restrained right hand, one to his left and another in the crook of his right elbow – what the hell where they giving him? Yuffie chose to remove them first, and then, feeling braver, hastened to undo the thick straps binding him to the bed. She wondered how he would have reacted to his predicament. A distressed Vincent seemed… implausible, the man was the epitome of calm and collected.

She tried to avoid staring at the scar above his heart, but it was difficult. Seeing such a wound proved he had once been normal… that he had once _died_. His skin was otherwise unblemished, no doubt the results of a demonic healing factor despite the scaring he had undoubtedly obtained during his years under Hojo's knife. The doctors had taken away his leather and cape and had instead clothed him in a pair of green scrubs pants. His naked torso wore five medical dressings, and one above his left eyebrow, which Yuffie frowned at. He couldn't possibly still be injured.

Removing the straps as quickly as possible, she glanced periodically at the door she had thoughtlessly left open; it did let in more light, though. But she had no time to run back over to close it, she had to get Vincent free and somehow wake him. He needed to retract his wings, at least then he could pass as a normal patient and if worse came to worse Yuffie could drag him out. There was no way she could do so with two huge, heavy wings attached. Although, the reactions of the waiting room occupants would be worth seeing.

Finally she eyed the tube in his mouth once again. Reaching forward she carefully removed the strap securing it in place and slowly, very slowly, began sliding the tube from his throat.

"It's a good job you're unconscious," she whispered, making a face as it slid out. She tossed it to the floor, wincing at the clatter and focused her attention on Vincent's breathing pattern. It remained steady. Thank Ifrit. Leaning forward, she tapped his cheek. "Vincent… you gotta wake up now. C'mon, wake up." He didn't stir, and she recalled the doctor's comment on administering another dose of sedative. "Damnit," she cursed, glancing around. She couldn't wheel him out, his wings were too awkward to move.

She reached for her phone, intending to contact Reeve and demand her backup right now, but a noise at the doorway made her spin around, like a deer caught in headlights.

In the backlight of the corridor stood a man in a suit, staring at her with the most unnerving gaze she had ever seen. His expression sent chills down her spine.

"What have we here?" He questioned in a manner of calm and disturbing ease. His lips were pulled into a thin, creepy smile. Two more men appeared behind him.

"Who are you people?" Yuffie demanded, standing protectively before Vincent.

Her question brought an unsettling smile to the middle man's lips. "Yuffie Kisaragi," he said instead, ignoring her. "How unfortunate you should find him." He gestured with his eyes at Vincent's prone form.

Confused and on edge, Yuffie frowned hard. "What do you mean?" She found herself asking.

The three men stepped into the room, and she was aware how they had situated themselves before the door. Before the only escape route. Their hands, clasped almost casually in front of them, wore white surgical gloves, catching Yuffie's attention and sending a cold, warning chill down her spine. They were here for Vincent.

"Why do you want him?" Yuffie asked after the chill of the silence became too much.

They simply smiled at her, like arrogant teachers keeping a secret from a student.

"I won't let you take him," she told them levelly, feeling her heart racing as she clenched her fists. Action, aggression and insults she could deal with in an opponent. But silence unnerved her more than anything, because she had no clues to gauge their actions. She hoped Reeve's backup team was following her communicator signal right then.

"He has no right to endanger the public any longer," the first man said, stepping forward. "And you cannot stop us."

Yuffie watched his movements with absolute attention, her body tensed like a coil waiting to spring as she eyed her adversary. Her subconscious picked up the subtle movement of the female doctor in the corridor outside. They were all waiting for someone to make the first move. The doctor was no threat, even if she had assembled other members of her trauma team outside. The three men, however, could have any manner of tricks and trumps up their sleeves. They were unreadable. There was no way she'd be leaving there with Vincent unless her backup arrived, but at the very least she could subdue or stall.

She sprung. The men had apparently been waiting for her actions, as they broke into a flurry of motion as she charged at the first, attempting to disable him and sweep his legs out. He blocked her initial strike but fell to her sweep, landing heavily on the floor as the other two pounced from her rear. She nimbly evaded both, gaining enough insight into their slightly clumsy movements that they were no fighters. She deflected one set of hands trying to grab her, gracefully dodging the oncoming set of the third man, using his momentum to direct him into the second, who stumbled into each other and fell to the floor.

"You guys are just pencil pushers, really, huh?" She quipped, feeling the previous rush of fear ebb into a growing tingle of cocky confidence. She was in the doorway, and cast a glance outside at the group of medical staff. They had backed away, watching her with wariness. Yuffie addressed them all when she next demanded, "What do you people want with Vincent?"

One of the female staff members shifted. "That thing is a monster, he's – "

But just what he was didn't make it from the woman's lips as a sudden PTOO sound accompanied a sharp pain, and Yuffie stumbled back and crashed into the wall behind her. She heard the sounds of gasps before her vision blackened alarmingly fast, and darkness dragged her down.

/

The receptionist behind the desk rose to her feet, startled, as a troop of soldiers rushed through the waiting rooms without even an apology. Several waiting people gasped and muttered in surprise as the footsteps pounded past.

"Hey – hey you can't just go rushing through with weapons!" The woman called after, looking stricken at her unusual predicament. She frowned worryingly as she scrambled for the phone.

Already making their way through a long corridor, the team followed their Commander through the hospital. Several times they were forced to ask staff to allow admittance through to secured areas, following the compact tracking device that was leading them to Yuffie's communicator. Luckily they received no resistance, only mildly shocked reactions and questioning looks as they moved down into the lower floors of the building. They strode professionally through a wide, concrete corridor as the beeping began to steadily increase, winding their way through the basements and deserted storage areas until they were led through an underground vehicles-delivery lot.

The device suddenly jumped and blared out a long, continuous beep – not unlike the noise of a heart monitor, ironically.

There, at the top of a sloping road where the shutter doors opened out onto the back of the hospital, sat a large white truck, its back doors open as a gurney was about to be wheeled onto it. Strapped to the gurney was Yuffie.

"Freeze!" Commander Sevon shouted, stuffing the device into his pouch as his team trained their weapons on the three men by the truck. A small group of medical staff whirled around in surprise from their position under the entranceway. "Step away from the truck and show your hands!"

The men, almost silhouetted in the darkness of the night, calmly and slowly raised their hand, except for the man by Yuffie's gurney.

About to repeat the order to him, Commander Sevon opened his mouth, but in a spur of movement the strange, suited man shoved the gurney hard down the slope into the basement and the WRO team immediately broke formation to grab it before it could topple and harm their unconscious colleague. In the sudden chaos of the moment, the three men dashed to the van, two running for the front, the third clambering into the back, reaching to close the open doors.

Men of action and quick reaction, Commander Sevon rushed forward with his team to stop the truck. The medical staff backed away fearfully as they raced up the slope, but the van was already revving away with one door swinging free.

"Shoot out the tires!" Sevon barked.

A series of gunshots splattered the concrete as the team aimed for the van gathering speed. An exploding bang ripped through the air as the right rear tire blew, and the vehicle veered sharply to one side as the driver tried to control the momentary loss of steering. The man in the back was tossed heavily to one side and the second door flew open, revealing a cylinder object in the cargo area. In an attempt to compensate for the loss of ground covered, the driver hit the gas, unaware the doors had unlatched, and the cylinder pod was wrenched from its position and flew out of the truck, escaping the futile effort of the man trying to catch ahold of the large object. In a squeal of tires and a cloud of exhaust smoke, the van took off around the perimeter fence and disappeared.

Commander Sevon jogged towards the gate and looked out onto the deserted back streets, but the white vehicle had long gone. He turned to his team and the pod that had fallen from the van. The medical staff was huddled together watching with careful, wide eyes and anxious expressions. Sevon approached them first.

"What the hell was happening here?" He asked.

The staff glanced at each other, apparently guilty and unsure. A woman lifted her chin. "They were here to remove a… _patient_ from the hospital."

Sevon eyed her. "You'll have to explain a lot more than _that_. Why is agent Kisaragi strapped to that gurney?" And before he was given any answer, demanded, "is she hurt? Is she okay?"

The doctor, looking a little confused herself, nodded. "She's fine, she has no injuries. But the men – those men, they told us she was a security risk, that she would have to be detained with them."

"Why?" Sevon frowned, half watching one of his men unstrap Yuffie from the Gurney and check her pulse and eyes.

"Because she was trying to free the… the patient."

"This patient," Sevon narrowed his eyes, "wouldn't happen to be named Vincent Valentine, would he?"

"I think that was his name, yes," the doctor said. "But he isn't _human_," she emphasized, as though it would explain away all of this.

Commander Sevon ran some scenarios through his head, possible explanations to the event that occurred. It was starting to shed some light on minor questions already. "Where _is_ Vincent Valentine?" He finally asked.

"Sir," one of his men called.

Sevon turned to find most of his team gathered around the pod that had fallen from the vehicle. His men had opened it, and they gestured him over. When he approached, it was clear the pod was a transport stasis tube.

Inside was the missing Vincent Valentine, and with his appearance were the answers to a lot of questions.

/


	4. Amnesia

**Trauma**

/

**AN:** I thought I'd update every Monday and Thursday, as I was thinking the other day that if I just uploaded once a week, with 13 chapters already done, it'd take 13 weeks just to get caught up. That's a long time, really. So I'll try my best to post a new chapter twice weekly. I have to go over each one and rewrite stuff 'cause some things sound really crap, hah.

/

The first sign of awareness came in the form of muffled voices, droning around her like she was listening under water. They steadily became clearer, recognizable as the soft tones of Reeve and Jackson, the WRO doctor. The second thing she noticed was the sheer weight of her head and how it seemed to be full of led.

"Ugh," she groaned, cracking open her eyes and wincing against the light of the infirmary. Automatically, she sat up slowly as she sensed both men approach. "Why does my body feel like someone's stuffed it full of materia?"

"Effects of the tranquillizer they used on you," came Jackson's voice, and Yuffie squinted at him. He checked her eyes and tested her pulse before deeming her fine and turning away. "You might feel nauseous, too."

Only then did she feel the wave of sickness roll over her. "Great," she mumbled weakly. Something nagged at the back of her brain for a second before she straightened out suddenly and turned to Reeve. "Where's Vincent? Did you get him? Those guys were going to abduct him!"

Reeve raised a hand to calm her. "We have him, don't worry. He's in the room next door. Jackson's running some tests."

"What happened?" Yuffie asked, desperate for some answers. "Did anyone get those three men?"

Reeve offered a thin-lipped, grim smile. "No, they escaped in a truck. The license plates were fake so we're without a lead for the time being. They were attempting to load you onto it strapped to a gurney, and would have gotten away with Vincent if not for the timely intervention of the backup team."

Yuffie frowned. "They were going to take me, too? Why? Did anyone question those doctors? I heard two of them talking about the men – I think they might know something."

Reeve nodded. "We interrogated the five people who were present." He paused for a second as Jackson returned with a small cup of water, which he handed to Yuffie. She drank it quickly, suddenly feeling really thirsty. "Dr. Geoni was the most cooperative, she had been contacted by these… Retrievers, she called them. They fished for evidence of Vincent's whereabouts before telling her he was extremely dangerous." Reeve shifted his weight to one foot. "Well, it wouldn't have been difficult to convince her of that in Vincent's current state."

"Which reminds me, I must go and check on our other patient," Jackson said, dismissing himself and leaving the small room.

Yuffie turned back to Reeve. "Why had he half transformed? He's never done that before, has he?"

Reeve shook his head slightly. "Not to my knowledge. Geoni told me he came in with serious injuries to his chest and temple, and only when he was in the trauma unit did his… wings appear." Reeve let his gaze wander as his thoughts played across his face. He still looked exhausted. "I can only assume his injuries were severe enough to warrant Chaos' intervention, but somehow Vincent was able to prevent a full transformation."

Yuffie winced at the obvious flaw in Reeve's assumption. "But Vincent was unconscious, wasn't he? How could he have kept control?"

Reeve's shoulders drooped a little and he shook his head. "I really don't know. Maybe it was something the medical staff had _given_ him."

"That's another weird thing – I didn't think medicine could work on him?"

Reeve nodded gravely. "Cid once told me no modern medicine can affect Vincent. It's a mystery." They contemplated this in silence for a minute.

Yuffie swung her legs over the edge of the cot she was on and gripped the side, eyes trained on the commissioner. "So the doctors were just scared of him? And when those guys told them he was dangerous and would take him away, she lied to me about his whereabouts, _why_?"

"She said she was confused. These Retrievers, whoever they are, had warned her against exposing his location to anyone. They suggested it would be exceedingly bad. It seems they had her convinced Vincent was extremely unsafe, and she was to avoid all complications of any matter."

Yuffie, still frowning hard, tried to get her wild thoughts in order as they swam around. "How did _they_ know about Vincent? _Why_ did they want him? Don't you think this is _really_ strange? I mean, it all makes the explosion look pretty suspicious."

A serious flicker crossed Reeve's face. "Yes. It does… And for that matter we need to figure out who these Retrievers are, and what exactly happened to cause that explosion."

A short period of silence fell between them before Yuffie raised her eyes back to the commissioner's. "Reeve… have you found Cid yet?"

The man avoided her gaze and shook his head.

Yuffie felt her heart fall. "They pulled Vincent out of that rubble…"

Her implications hung in the air between them, heavy and tense. Cid had supposedly been with Vincent during the explosion, and no one had witnessed a man fitting Cid's description being pulled from the wreckage. Yet…

Their attentions were wrenched from the worrying thought when the sound of distant clattering and crashes met their ears. They glanced at each other before striding to the door, opening it to the clearer sounds of a commotion coming from the room adjacent. Before they reached the door an IV stand flew through the glass window, sending shards scattering in all directions. Reeve didn't hesitate to shove the door open.

Monitoring equipment and various objects littered the floor around an upturned cot, which was acting as a divide between Jackson and a very edgy Vincent, who was very much awake. Jackson's hands were raised, an attempt to calm his patient as he tried to talk to him. The bandages had been taken off, and the gunman was left wearing the same pair of scrubs bottoms.

"Vincent," Reeve called, staring hard at the man, earning his attention.

With his wings at full width, he seemed to fill the large infirmary as each tip reached the ceiling – which had already suffered unintentional damage. Every movement caused more harm to his surroundings.

"Vincent, it's okay," Reeve soothed, believing the man to be unsettled by the infirmary. It had never been proven, but Avalanche had assumed he wouldn't take to medical facilities very well after what he'd been through. "You're at WRO Headquarters, Jackson was just monitoring your condition, nothing more."

"Sir, he's –" Jackson began warningly.

"Who are you?" Vincent demanded warily, his own hands raised defensively, eyes switching back and forth from Jackson to Reeve and to Yuffie.

Reeve froze. "What?"

"Who are you people?" Vincent questioned, his deep voice raspy and in need of hydration.

Reeve exchanged a bewildered look with Yuffie. "I'm Reeve…" He said carefully. "Don't you remember me?"

Vincent eyed him suspiciously, his body language broadcasting his agitation, lithe muscles visibly tensed.

"Vincent, we –" Reeve began, moving forward with his arms out in a show of non-threatening, but his actions caused Vincent to jerk back sharply as though he had rushed at him. Reeve froze again. An ice cold wave ran through his veins at the plain look of mistrust on Vincent's face. He was coiled like a tight spring, and any movement caused his eyes to snap to the offending person. He was like a caged animal.

"Vincent, we're your friends," Yuffie spoke up, a look of hurt confusion on her features. "You – "

Two WRO officers chose that particular moment to rush through the doorway with their weapons raised, responding to the commotion.

"Commissioner, we – _what the!?_" They caught sight of Vincent, wings spread wide, threatening and alien, and raised their weapons automatically.

"No!" Reeve yelled, reaching for the officers.

It happened too fast to stop. A blinding glare of red light exploded throughout the room and everyone was thrown from their feet, smashing into the walls as the whole room seemed to detonate. Glass shattered everywhere, steel wall paneling projected across the space and equipment blew up in a shower of electrical components and wires. Debris tumbled from the ceiling before it caved in, bringing tons of heavy floor down into the infirmary.

For the second time that day, Yuffie felt disorientated, groping blindly for something close by to identify. Her eyesight returned slowly and she was aware of her position on the floor in the corridor, having been flung against the wall. She coughed as dust fell into her mouth and clumsily climbed to her feet, senses numb but reality reasserting itself. When she was on her feet, swaying unsteadily, she blinked away the dirt from her eyes and turned her gaze on the disaster zone. She wavered dizzily as she took in the state of the infirmary.

What parts of the room weren't under tons of rubble from the ceiling was in such a mess it might well have been. It was a bombsite.

Beside her Reeve coughed and pushed off a chunk of rubble, climbing slowly to his feet as his body acted before his mind had caught up. He wiped debris from his face and found himself staring in shock at the mess of the once infirmary. Jackson was shifting sluggishly under a sheet of metal, and out in the corridor with Yuffie and Reeve were the two officers, trying to find their bearings. No one was dead.

The wall of the room had been blown out, littering the corridor around them. Reeve and Yuffie raised their eyes to the only other person still standing, and who looked so completely horrified at what he'd done. He stared at his shaking hands, appalled at the power that had come from them.

"I think we have a problem," Reeve breathed.

Yuffie agreed.

/

Two hours later Tifa and Barret arrived at the WRO. They were escorted through the massive complex to the upper levels, a fair trek even with the aid of elevators. The phone call they had each received had been unexpected and shocking, and they had journeyed to headquarters as quickly as they could from Edge.

"Tifa, Barret," Reeve greeted, meeting them in what could have been a recreational room for soldiers awaiting their shifts. It was a large room on different levels, with a long floor-to-ceiling window. "Thanks for coming."

"We couldn't not," Tifa said, and she would have offered a smile but didn't feel particularly cheery considering what they had been told over the phone. "What happened?" She asked, indicating the bandage across his forehead.

"Ah, well, I was in the room at the time of the, ah, incident," Reeve said. They had been informed of the 'incident'. He turned and led them through the room to a hallway. "Yuffie's with him now, but he's still fairly confused and… on edge. Not a good reaction in his current condition. He seems to have tapped into Chaos' power somehow and isn't able to control them." Reeve punched in a code for a mechanical door, through which he guided Barret and Tifa. "I'm really hoping either of your faces might jog his memory."

Tifa placed a gentle hand on Reeve's arm as they stopped to wait for another elevator. "Reeve, you told us you'd explain what exactly happened to cause this."

The man nodded. During the elevator ride to the top floor, he told the two Avalanche members everything that he knew from the mission to eliminate some dangerous monsters, to the rescue at the hospital in Mayac. At the end, Tifa was very concerned, and Barret looked troubled.

"Maybe you can help him," Reeve proposed, an undertone of hopeful pleading. "You've both seen him transform, maybe you can teach him how to turn back."

Barret's mouth tugged uncertainly. "He didn't exactly walk us through the process, Reeve. If anyone can teach him that again it'll be Cid."

Reeve pointedly did not look at either of them as he approached a large door. "Cid… has been missing since the explosion." He risked a glance at their faces. "We can't find him," he added quietly.

Tifa's lips parted in painful concern as Barret stared hard at him, deciding whether or not he could choose to believe it. Reeve turned his eyes from them and opened the door, unable to look at them.

Inside was a large room, what appeared to be an empty weapons locker. The shelves and racks had been pushed to the walls to create space, and in the center, with enough room for his expanded anatomy, sat Vincent with Yuffie, who was showing him something on her phone. They both looked up when the trio entered, and a cautious, mistrusting impression sprung up around Vincent as he climbed warily to his feet, his huge wings stretching out even further, intimidatingly.

"Vincent…" Tifa said softly, calm surprise on her features.

Reeve turned his dark eyes on those red ones. The man didn't find Reeve threatening any more and so didn't pay him any attention. "Vincent, _this_ is Tifa and Barret." He had told the gunman he would be bringing over his friends, hoping it would jog his memory. Vincent didn't seem to trust his word, though, so Reeve assumed he would make his own decision on whether or not they were friends.

"I was just showing him some photos," Yuffie said, standing up, too. She indicated her phone before stuffing it in her pocket. There was a bandage wrapped around her bicep and a gauze square taped to her left shoulder. "I have everyone on here, well, except Vincent."

"You really don't remember us…" Tifa not so much questioned as stated as she frowned at Vincent, slowly approaching.

Vincent's eyes trained on her movements but he said nothing. Ironically, that was more like the old Vincent, but disheartening all the same.

Watching him, Tifa noticed something that made her remark to Reeve, "where're his clothes?"

"I have someone in Mayac Town hospital looking into that," Reeve replied, and turned his focus on the winged man. "I know how much you like that leather and cape."

Vincent's eyes floated away, brow furrowed. He tilted his head, apparently listening to something other than Reeve. He raised a hand to his temple, pressing his fingers against his bangs.

"You okay?" Tifa asked.

"There's… something in my head… I can feel something." Vincent murmured.

Yuffie raised her worried eyes to Tifa and Barret. Vincent had never really told them how aware he was of his 'other' demons, so they were not entirely sure what kind of presence they had in his mind.

Shaking his head as if to fling away the disturbance, hair flailing around him, Vincent turned his eyes on his two other 'friends'. "If you know me, you can tell me what I am. I don't look or feel… human."

They had never heard emotion in Vincent's voice before, and it was unnerving to perceive. Exchanging looks, Tifa approached him again.

"You _are_ human," she soothed. "You're just different. A good different," she added. "What's the earliest thing you remember? Can you remember anything about Sephiroth? Or Deepground?"

As Vincent searched her eyes and slowly shook his head, Yuffie stepped closer to Tifa.

"I already asked about those," she said. "I've been telling him what we did, when we trekked across the world to stop Sephiroth, and how Deepground was trying to destroy the world." She looked back at Vincent. "It didn't bring back anything, did it?"

He glanced at her and said nothing, but he didn't need to.

Reeve stepped beside Vincent. "Do you recall being in the hospital, down in Mayac Town? The doctor said that when you were in surgery you mentioned something about needing to find 'him', and that you seemed desperate to know where 'he' was. Do you remember that? Do you know who you could have been talking about?"

Vincent looked at Reeve for a long moment, trying to recall the memory, but again, he shook his head. "I don't remember being in a hospital. Just the infirmary…"

Barret approached and joined their circle, causing Vincent to tense slightly, watching him carefully. "Does the name Cid Highwind ring a bell?"

For a brief, hopeful second they all thought that he did, judging by the way in which Vincent hesitated. But his crimson eyes shifted away disappointedly and he shook his head.

"Can we take him to some familiar places?" Yuffie asked, looking around at them all. "Something might spark his memory, I've seen it happen to other people with amnesia."

"I wish we could, but…" Reeve glanced at the pair of wings prominently displayed behind Vincent. "It's not a good idea to take him outside right now."

"Then our first mission is to help you get rid of those," Tifa stated to the gunman, gesturing with her finger.

"I can do that?" Vincent narrowed his eyes.

Tifa smiled. "Yeah, you didn't exactly used to walk about with them on display. You've just gotta concentrate."

Vincent looked a little lost. "I don't know how."

"Then ya gotta learn," Barret told him, simply, not unkindly. Vincent blinked at him.

/

Shelke looked down at the map the West Gate hospital receptionist had sketched out for her, showing how to get to Middle Gate. Her blue eyes trailed along the crudely drawn buildings and landmarks that would eventually lead her to the center of town. Thanking her, Shelke rejoined the small team of WRO waiting for her outside and they took a transport along the designated route. Along the way they passed the site of the explosion, and just as Yuffie had described, it was a forlorn mess, where rescue workers were still clearing away the huge blocks of brick and mortar in the possible chance that there were more bodies to uncover. Shelke hoped that Highwind would not be among them.

She had met the man only three times during her integration into the WRO. Once while she had been a member of the Tsviets aboard the _Shera_, and the other two during a visit to Vincent, with whom she seemed to have formed (what Yuffie had told her was) a good friendship (especially considering this was Vincent). She was slowly recognizing social structures again and learning to live as a normal civilian. One who works for the WRO, but normal, nonetheless. Vincent paid her solitary visits when he was around, interested in his distant way about her life now. He saw himself in her, and she suspected that with her success at a new life he could finally recognize and admit to himself that he had accomplished the exact same. He seemed to believe that somewhere along his current life his world would be taken from him again, and consequently she had noticed that he harbored a fierce protectiveness of the rugged pilot, one that he himself probably wasn't aware of.

In retrospect of these thoughts, she realized that it was highly possible that his world _had_ been taken from him again. If Cid Highwind had, as they all feared, been killed in the Mayac building explosion, the gunman would find himself with very little left to live for. Was it cruel intervention or merciful deliverance then that he had lost all memory of Cid?

The WRO van pulled up in Middle Gate hospital parking lot and Shelke gazed up at the looming building with its lights glowing crisply in the dark night. Reeve had sent her to find what Yuffie hadn't had time for: The rest of the team that had originally taken on the monster assignment. Four members remained missing, five including Highwind. Yuffie had said that both hospitals took in patients from the explosion, leaving the hopeful possibility that the rest of the CD team had been taken to Middle Gate. If they weren't still under the rubble.

The hospital reception was the first counter through the sliding doors. The receptionist was a young man, who checked his logs for victims of the explosion and directed the small group down the corridor, through the small waiting room literally teeming with potted plants, and through the corridor branching off to the left. They found the rooms with no trouble, splitting up to investigate the patient identities to save time.

Recognizing her patient immediately, Shelke was happy to say Commander Gen would live to lead another mission. He was groggy with a broken femur, and had lost his ID in the explosion, giving the staff no name to work with. Shelke left his room after giving his details to the nurse attending him, and told her the WRO would most likely have him moved to their quarters.

Outside in the corridor she met back with the team and ticked off the patients they had seen. Of the eight people brought in, they had found only Gen belonging to their numbers; the others had been unfortunate civilians. Shelke pointed out the remaining three rooms they had yet to check, and wandered off to find the location of her mystery patient as the officers did the same.

"Can I help, miss?" Asked a woman. A nurse appeared from a small staff room, looking down at Shelke kindly.

"I'm looking for the patient in room 22," Shelke said.

The nurse nodded and guided the young girl around another corner and to the end of the corridor to room 22. She opened the door and led in, watching Shelke approach the bed.

"He's suffered a grade 3 concussion, and has been unconscious since he was found under the building," the nurse said helpfully. "A broken rib, a broken humerus and minor lacerations. He was lucky, especially considering they pulled him out of the center only a couple of hours ago."

Shelke allowed a small smile. "But at least I can tell them he's alive," she said to herself quietly, eyes on the man in bed. "His name is Cid Highwind."

/

Reeve was weak with relief as he personally oversaw the transportation of Cid and Gen to WRO headquarters. As the main infirmary was currently under a floor of rubble, they were both moved to a smaller room, where Reeve brought in the necessary machines and equipment (newly purchased, as most of the major units were obliterated during the 'incident').

Tifa opted to stay with Vincent as Yuffie and Barret strode through the complex to the infirmary, intent on seeing for themselves that Cid was alive. They entered the infirmary to Reeve already inside along with the newly arrived Nanaki, watching over the motionless forms of Cid and Gen.

A swathe and sling had been bound to Cid's torso, pinning his casted left arm securely to his side. Bandages wrapped around his naked ribcage and a couple of small gauze ones had been taped to his right shoulder and right forearm. Aside from these and the IV drip in his hand he looked like he was simply sleeping peacefully. Without his ever-present goggles his blond hair had become disheveled.

"He's going to be fine," Reeve told them at once, but there was a tone in his voice that suggested something further.

"But?" Barret detected it, staring at the commissioner.

"It's just a minor coma," Reeve quickly assured. "Jackson said Cid's in no danger, but we're not sure when he'll wake. It could be hours, or it could be days, but he will wake. There's a linear fracture along the back of his skull which isn't fatal, but when he wakes he'll have to take it easy."

"Yeah, like he'll do that," Yuffie sniggers, but the relief in her tone equaled that of Reeve's.

"That's why I'm telling you guys," he smiled.

Yuffie studied their unconscious teammate, tilting her head. "I never noticed blond's had blond eyelashes…"

"One of us should stay here with him," Nanaki suggested from his position next to Reeve. "In case he wakes sooner rather than later."

"I'll take first watch," Barret said, moving further into the room to stand between Cid and Gen's beds. "Vincent don't exactly like me being up there with him." Barret shook his head. "It's kinda weird seeing him like he is… with emotions and stuff."

"Have there been any more incidents?" Reeve asked. It had been hours since he'd last visited the weapons locker, busy with his organization.

Barret gave him a grave look as he dragged a chair over to Cid's bedside. "He ain't responding very well at all, can't focus on his wings. And he's getting more and more agitated about the 'things' in his head. I mean _real_ agitated. If he loses it, Reeve, we're in Shits Creek."

A troubled expression fell across Reeve's face. "He hasn't let slip anymore of his powers, has he?"

Barret ran two large hands across his face as he dropped into the chair. "Yeah. He has. Twice. He can't control it, Reeve. I'm fucking worried about leaving Tif up there with him."

"He didn't _mean_ to," Yuffie defended. "It's like, every time he gets angry or upset he loses his grip on them, but he was _trying_ to contain it."

Reeve's expression grew more serious and pensive. "We'll have to stop trying to help him. He obviously can't make those wings disappear, and the effort is risking another infirmary incident." Reeve stared at the floor as silenced washed over them all, something passed behind his brown eyes. "He could have killed someone…" he whispered.

Yuffie touched his arm. "But he didn't. It's okay, Reeve."

The tired man nodded at her and took a deep sigh. "At least we've found Cid," he gave a weak smile, "our Vincent-taming weapon."

"Let's hope he wakes before the WRO headquarters gets wiped from the map," Barret said negatively, leaning back in the chair and crossing his burly arms.

Nanaki turned his muzzle to Reeve. "What if we bring Vincent to see Cid? Perhaps it might bring back something."

Reeve pursed his lips in thinking before responding. "It's a good idea, but I'm not sure bringing him back to the infirmary would be wise. He didn't react too well last time, and Dr. Geoni told me he panicked in surgery when she told him where he was."

"Damn, I owe Tifa two hundred gil," Barret grumbled to himself. It wasn't a secret the two friends had made a bet regarding that information.

"Then we stall until something pops up or Cid wakes," Yuffie said. "How goes the hunt for these Retriever people?"

"Fruitless," Reeve answered simply. "There are no records on those men, and the name isn't known to any of our sources. The doctor in Mayac Town can't tell us much, and her phone record was disappointingly blank. Security footage had been wiped. They knew how to get in and out undetected."

"It is worrying that such proficient characters are after our friend," Nanaki said.

"Indeed," Reeve agreed solemnly.

Had they not fallen into a short bout of silence right then they would have missed the muffled, distant sound of a great bang some floors above them. They froze, turning their eyes on each other before rushing to the door as one.

Several minutes later they arrived at a run to the weapons locker, where a group of WRO men had already gathered, looking worried. Reeve punched the door release and the large hatch slid open. They filed in, eyes drawn to the large gaping hole in the opposite wall, exposing the night.

Their sudden entrance into the room caused a further reaction as Vincent spun in alarm, already in a state of distress. A flare of energy engulfed him as Barret shouted and tackled Reeve and Yuffie out the way, but the sound of Vincent's strangled groan made them look up. The power around him pulsated for a second before dispersing in a shooting of bright streaks. He teetered on his feet for a second before dropping to his knees looking exhausted. Tifa rushed to his side.

"What the fuck…?" Barret uttered as he climbed to his feet next to Reeve.

Tifa whirled on the three. "What's wrong with you?" She demanded angrily. "You know you can't just barge in! You startled him!"

"We heard a bang," Barret shouted, waving his hands at the hole in the wall. "Last time that happened the fucking infirmary exploded! So excuse us for thinking you might have been next!"

Tifa glared at him, but their concern was rightly founded and she knew it. She was simply trying to defend Vincent's reaction. Unfortunately they all knew his unpredictability was becoming a serious risk. They were playing with fire.

"I'm sorry," Vincent mumbled, his eyes staring sedately at the floor, his wings limply trailing the floor either side of him.

"It's okay, you managed to stop it that time," Tifa told him reassuringly, one hand wrapped warmly around his shoulder, the other on his left hand in his lap. "That's good."

Reeve turned and dismissed the WRO soldiers outside the door, then closed it and approached the two slowly. He knelt down before Vincent. "You're going to have to stop trying to concentrate on those wings and leave them be for now," he said softly. "The more you try, the riskier it's getting."

Vincent's eyes looked up into Reeve's, and the commissioner was struck by how vividly red they were, how exposed his soul was. "Why can't I do it?"

Caught by his question, Reeve watched his face, studying his expression. "I'm not sure. But the one person who might is in the infirmary downstairs, and when he wakes, I'm sure he'll help you."

Vincent looked searchingly into Reeve's eyes. "This Cid Highwind?" Reeve nodded. "Why would he be the one to help me?"

It was strange hearing Vincent so emotionlessly refer to Cid. Reeve felt a tug of sadness. "Because he knows you much more than we do."

"I don't understand," Vincent frowned vaguely. "You said _you_ were my friends. Why do you not know as much as he does?"

Reeve swallowed. When would be the right time to tell Vincent he was practically married to Cid, they were inseparable? That he wasn't a _friend_, he was Vincent's partner. His lover.

Tifa saved him the response. "There are some things you don't get to learn about a person and some things you do. Just, right place right time kinda thing." She pulled him to his feet and Reeve rose with them. "How about something to eat?"

"…I'm not hungry."

The doors chose that moment to slide open and they looked over to see Shelke enter the room, surveying the damage to the wall. "The Rec room has been evacuated if you wish to give Vincent a change of scenery."

Reeve thanked her, hoping the new environment would prove beneficial to Vincent's current mindset. Having been cooped up in the locker for hours he was probably feeling frustrated.

Barret mumbled something about the infirmary and disappeared from the room with one last look over his shoulder, satisfied their amnesiac friend had settled down. The rest escorted Vincent from the battered room once he'd folded in his wings and made their way down.

It was quiet throughout the complex, just the time of night to avoid any sudden noises and arrivals that might make Vincent jump. It was strange to treat him so carefully, and Reeve had to wonder just why he was so skittish. It must be Chaos' doing somehow, but why? Was it a survival trait? Treat anything suspicious, loud or fast with extreme caution? But Chaos would have no need to employ such instincts, he was pretty much above anything else on the metaphorical food chain, there was nothing that could harm him. So perhaps it boiled down to Vincent's own sub-consciousness.

The night was promising to be a long one. Tifa set about making herself and Reeve a pot of coffee from the small open plan kitchen as Yuffie prepared something else. Shelke found herself standing in the room, directionless, watching Vincent lower himself onto a three-seat couch and fold one long leg under him as he stared at Nanaki curiously. Shelke's eyes drifted down the expanse of Vincent's bare torso to the scar right above his heart. The man had made it clear he disliked any show of skin, and was always hidden in his full leather outfit and heavy red cape. The opportunity to see what his body looked like without it wasn't something Shelke wanted to take advantage of, but her eyes were drawn to that one scar that had sealed the end of his first life.

A grimace crossed Vincent's face and a hand flew to his temple, drawing a concerned look from Nanaki as the man grunted in obvious discomfort. After a few seconds his features began to relax, and when his eyes slowly opened he caught Shelke staring at him. Following her line of sight he looked down at his chest, and a frown blossomed across his face as a hand rose to the scar. He hadn't noticed it at all until then.

"What is this?" He asked, looking up into Shelke's eyes, his frown curious but demanding.

"It's a bullet wound," she answered automatically, having read Vincent's files during the Deepground event. "You were shot."

He looked back at the offending blemish on his otherwise flawless skin and traced the scar with his fingers. "It's right over my heart… shouldn't I have died?"

"You did," she answered without thinking. "But you were brought back to life."

He fixed her with a penetrating stare, and she felt a chill run along her spine. "What happened? Why was I shot?"

She didn't like the strange tone creeping into his voice, and wondered if she should have shifted the truth like Tifa had to avoid such questions. "You were shot for confronting a man. A scientist by the name of Hojo."

He stared at her before looking back down at the scar, running his palm across it. Something must have reacted to him as he gasped quietly and his hand recoiled. Shelke frowned, tilting her head curiously as a bewildered expression crossed the pale man's face. He pressed his hand over his heart a second time and again drew it back as though it had been burned.

"What… what is that?" Vincent questioned, his voice wavering as fear ebbed into his tone. "I can feel something… there's something in my chest…" He looked back at her, pleading for some answer to calm his fears.

"The protomateria," Shelke answered. "I wasn't aware you could feel it."

"What _is_ it?" He demanded, his voice raising, drawing Tifa, Reeve and Yuffie's attention from the kitchen.

Shelke realized that the others had been darting around the mention of Chaos to Vincent, and that by explaining truthfully what the Protomateria was, she would have to expose Chaos' existence to him. Thinking creatively, she decided to skate around the facts.

"It's a special materia that keeps your heart pumping," she said, hating the words that left her tongue. "Because of the bullet that went through it. It's quite harmless."

His eyes were trained on her as though her words were his lifeline, and she realized she had never seen Vincent nervous before. This was so strange to him; essentially he had an ordinary mind in a foreign body with strange, dangerous powers, two great big demonic wings and voices in his head. Who wouldn't be a little freaked out?

"Vincent, are you okay?" Tifa came over, watching him, a cup of steaming coffee in her hand. Reeve stood behind her.

Vincent ignored her as his eyes darted across the carpet before him, thoughts evidently racing through his mind. "You said scientist… did he do this to me?" He pointed at his wings.

Shelke's lips parted but she had no immediate lie for him. Tifa, concern written over her face, moved around to face Vincent, crouching before him. He followed her movements, something fragile and desperate playing across his features. His eyes had begun to glow.

"It all happened in the past, calm down," she soothed calmly, placing her hand's comfortingly on his knees.

"Is that why I'm 'human but different'?" He demanded, fear seeping away and anger stepping in. "Did he graft these wings on my back and then put these _things_ in my head?" He was getting agitated once again, and his eyes were tinting gold. "_Why_? What was I confronting him about? What happened?"

"Vincent, calm down or you'll lose control again."

"These powers? How did I get them?" He demanded, edging away from her on the couch. "I wasn't born with them, was I?" He lapsed into silence as his expression flicked into something new. "Where's my family? Can they help me?"

"_Vincent_," Tifa said firmly, loudly, gaining his attention as she gripped his thigh before he could move further away. "I can tell you what I know, but not if you're blowing up the building. Understand?"

He seemed to control the rush of emotions rolling around inside him enough to focus on her eyes, holding her gaze. If it was possible, Shelke would have thought Tifa had just transferred her calm mood through their ocular connection, watching the tension ease away from Vincent's body. His reactions were understandable, but they still weren't very Vincent, even memory-blank Vincent… it was puzzling. Just what had happened to him? Aside from the impossible fact that a man like him could even gain amnesia, there were things not quite adding up.

/

The heart monitor was online simply for precautionary measures. Barret had been guaranteed there was no actual need to monitor Cid's heart because he wasn't in any danger, but the extra assurance was enough to keep it on.

Barret snoozed lightly in his chair by Cid's bed, keeping half an ear alert for any more sounds of distant explosions. It was probably the only reason he realized the beating of the heart monitor had changed slightly, increasing just a little. His subconscious prodded at him and he found his eyes sliding open, staring listlessly at the door opposite him until his brain caught up. He sat up and looked around, glancing at both sleeping occupants before double-taking to Cid's bed.

The pilot's head rolled subtly in the pillow and remained still, but it was only then that Barret realized the heart machine was increasing a little bit more.

"Cid," Barret called, stifling a yawn. He cracked his back before leaning closer to the bed. "Cid, ya lazy bastard, wake up."

There was no response, and Barret sighed disappointedly, rubbing a hand over his face. He realized, to the sound of a soft moan behind him, that Gen was waking, and it was _his_ heart monitor that had increased.

"No offense, pal, but I couldn't give a fuck about you," Barret mumbled quietly, reaching out to ring for Jackson anyway.

/


	5. Disarray

**Trauma**

Cloud arrived shortly after 1.00am, following the strange text message he received to the WRO headquarters. He was guided up several levels until eventually he was shown into a large room where most of Avalanche had congregated. However, the sight was not what he'd been expecting. Vincent with two furled wings on the couch, in nothing but a pair of green pants, was enough to make him gawp.

His appearance caught their attention as he slowly approached, giving them all a questioning look that he hoped would earn him some answers.

Vincent stiffened visibly at Cloud's appearance, and then frowned noticeably as he fixed his unnervingly red eyes on the blond, detecting something. "You're different," Vincent's deep voice rumbled through the air between them. "You're not like the rest…"

Cloud halted just short of where Shelke had lowered to the floor with Nanaki. "What?"

"Cloud," Tifa climbed to her feet from where she sat by Vincent's knees. "You got mine and Reeve's messages then?"

"Yeah…" Cloud answered, eyeing the scene, confused. "You said something happened to Cid and Vincent…"

Tifa nodded, and with the help of the others, excluding Vincent who remained characteristically silent, they caught Cloud up the past day's events.

/

Barret was sure it was the movement of Jackson entering and leaving the room, and the verbal exchange between Gen and the doctor that actually drew Cid from his coma. The door to the small room had just closed behind Jackson before the pilot shifted slightly once again; his heart monitor mimicked the same increase as Gen's had an hour ago. A soft noise floated from Cid as his breathing became more noticeable. Barret folded his arms and smiled, waiting patiently as the man's sky blue eyes slowly slid open and stared at the wall to his right. A second later his brain and motor functions kicked in and his head rolled leisurely back into the pillow, catching sight of Barret smirking at him from the chair.

"You sure take your fuckin sweet time," Barret grinned.

Cid's lips twitched into a smile and parted, about to say something but hesitated. "That's what lazy bastards do," he finally rasped, his voice rough and quiet, but quite definitely alive.

"I'd punch you for making me wait, but I'm on your bad side," Barret gestured to the sling and cast securing Cid's broken arm.

He looked down at it. "Well shit… Vincent's gonna be pissed."

The grin faded from Barret's lips, and Cid noticed. "He ain't gonna be pissed, Cid," he told him warningly.

Cid frowned up at him.

/

Cloud accepted the hot drink Tifa pushed into his hands as he listened to the end of the day's events from Reeve and Yuffie. He was sat in a single chair that he had pulled closer, leaning forward on his thighs as he processed the concept of memory loss and the resulting man it had created.

"So, what did you mean when you said Cloud was different?" Yuffie asked, apparently much more comfortable around Vincent's strange new self than anyone else – excluding Tifa, who perched on the couch next to him. Reeve had taken up the end arm, one leg over the other. Cloud was reminded of their get-togethers that Tifa organized, in which for one day they shared a meal, exchanged stories and reminisced on their adventures; a family get-together, she had called it. And it had been. But this gathering was lacking the cohesion they usually had, and it was clear that their family was 'incomplete'.

Vincent glanced at her briefly. "I don't know…" He looked at Cloud. There was no familiarity in his eyes, no recognition. Cloud was a stranger to Vincent. "You're not the same as everyone else…more like me but not…"

Cloud understood. "Mako. Or Jenova cells. You can sense them."

"Jenova cells?" Vincent repeated.

Cloud watched his face for a second, wondering just what he remembered of the world and what he didn't. He caught Tifa eyeing him. "You don't remember anything about Jenova?"

Vincent stared blankly back at Cloud.

"Jenova was…" Cloud began slowly, thinking of the best and shortest explanation he could give without having to dive into _why_ he had Jenova cells. He was interrupted by a beeping from Tifa's phone.

The light from the screen illuminated her features as she read her text message. Her face lit up. "Cid's awake!" She declared, grinning, spurring equal reactions from Reeve and Yuffie. It faltered slightly as she continued. "But Barret says he has some memory blank spots, as well…"

"Oh great," Yuffie threw up a hand. "He better remember the important things or we're really screwed."

Reeve stood from the couch arm. "With any luck he'll be able to tell us what happened to cause that explosion. And…" He trailed off and glanced at Vincent.

There was a sparkle of excitement in the air as Reeve, Yuffie and Nanaki made their way down to the infirmary, neither trying to show too much bounce in their step. But it was a fact that with Cid's recovery their family was whole again… well, almost.

The small room was brightly lit when they entered. Gen had disappeared, no doubt hobbling around on crutches to check on the surviving members of his team. Cid had been propped into a half-sitting position, drinking from a polystyrene cup. His eyebrows rose in greeting as they approached the bed. He drained the cup.

"Reeve, where the hell is my tea? They've given me water, for cryin' out loud," Cid complained loudly, grinning to show his jest.

Reeve reached forward and grasped Cid's hand, a close, friendly shake as he slapped the pilot's good arm amicably with his other. "It's good to see you awake, Cid," Reeve smiled. "You had us worried, you know?"

"So I heard," Cid jerked his head at Barret, who was nursing a cup of coffee. "Yer know how much I like to play the dead hero."

Reeve shook his head, still smiling as Yuffie pushed forward.

"You owe me big time," she told him, pointing accusingly at the blond. "I went traipsing all over Mayac Town looking for you, asking _hundreds_ of people if they'd seen some battered, dirty-looking pilot with a cigarette between his teeth."

"No one recognized me? I'm hurt," Cid deadpanned. He gestured to their bandages. "What happened to you two?"

Yuffie shrugged nonchalantly. "Vincent Control. Like crowd control, but just one person and a big blast."

Cid's expression shifted. "Where is he?"

Reeve licked his lips, knowing Cid would ask sooner or later. "He's in the Rec room with Tifa, Cloud and Shelke. What do you know?"

Cid glanced at Barret. "Just that he's lost his memory, which is… _impossible_, but, I believe yer… And apparently he's losin' control of Chaos." Cid took it professionally, calmly, but the underlying waves of concern were noticeable, and try as he might he couldn't hide them.

"Not so much 'control' of Chaos, as he seems to be unable to turn off its power," Reeve said carefully, settling himself on the edge of Cid's bed. Yuffie stood beside him. "This may sound strange, but it seems he's a little emotionally unstable, too, and those are the triggers that set him off."

Cid stared at Reeve for a long moment, his blond brow furrowed slightly, his blue eyes hard. "He never could allow himself to get angry… I've never seen him anything else, though."

Reeve tilted his head. "Well, it's very likely that you will."

Cid was quiet for another second. "So, what've I missed? Was he alright when yer found him? Chaos didn't destroy another mountain, did he?"

Reeve smiled despite himself, and with Yuffie and Barret's input, managed to tell Cid about the horrendous twenty four hours they'd been through. It took the majority of thirty minutes, with a few interjections from Cid, and when they'd finished Cid was pushing himself up awkwardly with one hand.

"Where'd'ya think you're going?" Barret asked, catching his shoulder, mindful of his broken arm.

"I wanna see Vincent, damnit," Cid said, wincing as his body aches flared up. A hand flew to his head. "My skull's not gonna break open is it?"

"No, it's just a hairline fracture," Reeve told him as he pushed Cid back into bed. "And you're not going anywhere unless Jackson says you can."

"Fuck Jackson, I ain't gonna be coddled like an invalid," Cid argued stubbornly, but grimaced in pain again, allowing Barret and Reeve to push him back into the pillows.

"We wouldn't dream of it," Reeve smiled. "But just humor me for a bit longer and stay in bed. Your rib is still healing, and Vincent's not going anywhere. Tifa's been a huge help placating him so he'll be fine. Now," he said, changing the subject smartly. "Tell me what's the last thing you remember about the explosion."

Giving in reluctantly for now, Cid sighed and closed his eyes. His head was throbbing painfully and he felt the first waves of nausea roll over him. Perhaps it _was_ a bit too soon to have sat up. "I can't really remember anythin'… I can't even remember arrivin' in Mayac Town. Did you assign me to the team?"

Reeve shook his head slightly. "No. We assumed Vincent had taken you along, or you invited yourself, as we know you sometimes do," the commissioner gave him a look. "Commander Gen told us you were already with Vincent when his team arrived to take a transport to Mayac Town."

Cid tried to think back, but his head pounded in agony, making it difficult to do so. "Does Gen know why the buildin' went down? He was pulled from the rubble, right?"

"His accounts are dotted, but he and his team were set to return to headquarters without you and Vincent when they heard a commotion. They followed it into the building where you both were, obviously. He didn't see anything before the building came down, but he reported hearing gunshots several floors above him…"

Something flashed behind Cid's eyelids and he frowned hard, grunting. A hand flew to his head, as though it would help ease the sudden, sharp pressure spiking inside his skull.

"Cid?"

The throbbing increased rapidly but then dropped just as quickly, and the pilot was finally able to open his eyes. "I remember gunshots," he said, his voice weak to his own ears. He hoped they didn't notice.

Reeve exchanged a look with Barret before leaning forward a little bit. "Can you remember who was shooting?"

Cid was shaking his head before he'd even finished, but the motion made his brain feel like the mushed remains of fruit in a blender, so he stopped. "I'm pretty sure they were comin' at me, but I can't… rgh, I can't fuckin' remember."

Nodding understandingly, Reeve could only imagine how frustrating it was to have no memory of something. "Cid, the doctor who had treated Vincent after the explosion told us he had been shot several times."

At this Cid opened his eyes and stared at him, the same assumption running through his head as it was Reeve's. "Vincent took those bullets for me?"

"Very likely," Reeve replied seriously.

"Damnit, if only I could remember who the fuck was shootin'." The pilot heart-heartedly punched the mattress, and then cradled his sore rib with a regretful wince. "And _why_."

Shifting in his potion on the bed, Reeve contemplated what he was about to tell Cid next and how it possibly connected to the supposed shooting. "Cid, there's something I skipped over when we were filling you in. I said Yuffie managed to locate Vincent in the hospital and he was brought here. That wasn't entirely accurate…" Cid squinted suspiciously at him as Reeve shot Yuffie a look.

She took up where he hesitated. "When I found him, three men in suits crashed the party. From what I gathered, they'd fooled the doctors into thinking Vincent was really dangerous to them and they were there to take him away. Vincent wasn't in any hospital room, they'd hidden him away in the basements so these guys could come in, take him away and no one would ever know."

Cid may have had a serious migraine, but when the subject was Vincent he was always thinking quickly. "So they must have discovered his location before you to have warned the doctors in advance."

Yuffie nodded. "I don't know how, maybe they were watching when Vincent was brought in, maybe they had to do what I did and throw his description about. Before they drugged me I tried to get some information from them, but they wouldn't say anything. They knew my name, though. And they said something like, Vincent was too dangerous to the public. They were creepy…"

Cid was looking both angry and alarmed. "And yer've got _no_ info on these guys? No video, no witness accounts?"

Reeve shook his head. "All we know if that they referred to themselves as Retrievers, and their only target had been Vincent."

Cid's mind raced. "What if that explosion was an elaborate set-up to get' im?" He rushed out.

"Why would they detonate a building and risk trapping him under all that rubble, though?" Nanaki questioned. "The time it took for them to enter the hospital after Vincent's admittance doesn't add up. If they were monitoring his whereabouts they would have collected him as soon as possible."

"Makes sense," Reeve said pensively, stroking his goatee. "But then what caused the building to explode?"

"Well, we know two people who were apparently at the center of it all," Barret said, glancing meaningfully at Cid. "But can't remember shit right now."

"Their memories'll come back, though, right?" Yuffie asked, looking from Barret to Reeve.

"Jackson said Cid's would return in time," Barret told them all. "But he can't say anything for Vincent's."

Cid shook his head before the pain hit him again. "I just don't get how it's possible. I've seen someone put a bullet in Vincent's forehead once, Chaos healed him, and he was fine two hours later. Like _nothin'_ had happened. He _heals_. He can heal anythin'. _Somethin'_ happened to him in that town that's preventing his memory from healin'."

"And you're the only one who might know what," Reeve said softly.

Cid's blue eyes darted between his, and a lapse of silence fell between them before he made up his mind. "I have to go back to Mayac Town. Somethin' might jog my memory."

Reeve nodded. "Tomorrow," he promised. "In the meantime, I need you to help Vincent resume a more _normal_ appearance, so that we can take him out for some brain refreshing, too."

/

"So he's alright?" Tifa asked nearly an hour later when Yuffie returned to the Rec Room. Shelke had disappeared, and it looked as though Tifa had persuaded Vincent to eat soup. He was nestling a bowl on his lap, an air of awkwardness about him. Cloud was watching the night scenery from the window.

"He's fine, his usual self," Yuffie assured her. "He tried to get outta bed so he could come up here, but he can barely stand. Stubborn man."

"That's Cid," Tifa sang softly to herself. "Does he remember anything?"

Yuffie paused, casting a glance at Vincent who looked between the two women with no discernible expression. "Nothing before and during the explosion… _except_ seeing bullets flying towards him." She watched Tifa putting two and two together just as they had down in the infirmary.

The martial artist turned to include Vincent in the swapping of expressions. "You were brought into the hospital with bullet wounds," she told him.

He said nothing to this, but simply blinked patiently, apparently either ignoring the meaning between their exchange or oblivious to it. Tifa was watching him thoughtfully.

"Do you… want to visit Cid?" She asked. "He's in the infirmary, but you don't have to go right in."

Vincent's lips parted, but his answer caught in his throat. There seemed to be this strange importance that he and this Cid Highwind reunite, and that something hopeful would come of it. He didn't understand the apparently special case of one friend against the others, but there was a vague flutter of apprehension, pressuring him to find out why this man was so significant in his newfound condition, and consequently it was pushing him away from the idea of meeting Cid Highwind. Finally, Vincent shook his head.

Tifa's face slid into disappointment, and for a second Vincent felt guilty for it. She expected him to be as excited as she was about Cid's awakening, but he didn't _know_ the man; only the growing burden of expectation they all seemed to place upon him.

Tifa and Yuffie had begun talking again, but he could only recognize the drone of their voices underneath the growing disturbance in his head. It was like an itch, one he couldn't scratch, but at the same time it like an ache he couldn't sooth. There was no real way to describe it. Sometimes the sensation was calm, simply lurking in the back of his mind like a shadow. Other times it was like a moth around a light bulb, constantly annoying him but just out of reach to catch.

He hadn't realized he'd closed his eyes until he heard the muffled sound of his name. He opened them to find both girls staring at him in obvious concern. Cloud had appeared behind them, and Vincent had no doubts that the young man was prepared to wrench Tifa and Yuffie out the way if he lost control again.

He was surprised to find his hands cradling his head, a pressure at each temple. When had they moved? The tingling in his head was still gnawing at him, and it was driving him crazy. It was like it was trying to _tell_ him something but he couldn't understand. 'Frustrating' was putting it mildly.

"What _is_ it?" Vincent blurted aloud through gritted teeth, clawing his fingers in his hair. The tingling began increasing, as though reacting to the attention he was giving it. "I can't shut it out. Why won't it…? Nn!" He grunted sharply as it stabbed at his brain. "Stop it!"

He could hear his name again, Tifa was shouting. But it sounded like she was behind a concrete wall and he was underwater, and the impression of drowning was sending his heart into a frantic race. He heard a crash, glass smashing. His eyes were closed, he couldn't see. He stumbled somewhere – when had he gotten to his feet? He heard his name again. Yuffie? Something brushed his right wing and he jerked automatically, feeling his left one crash into a wall. The droning in his head became a roar, deafening him, filling his mind.

"Stop it – " He heard himself plead.

Something pressed against his heart suddenly. The Protomateria reacted instantly, pulsating, sending a wave of warmth surging through his body, washing over the chaos of his mind, like a tide over the sand. A breath of hot air tickled his left ear.

"Calm down, Vincent… I've got yer…"

An indescribable sensation coursed in his veins and the coiled tension in his body began to fade away. His hands fell limply to his side and he felt suddenly very heavy. Unable to support himself he sank to the floor. Something was massaging his scalp, soothingly, slowly, combing through his hair. A fuzzy feeling of fullness settled through him and he felt his consciousness slip effortlessly from his control.

Knelt on the floor with his sleeping partner cradled to his chest, Cid pressed his face into Vincent's hair and, unable to battle the excruciating pain in his head any longer, succumbed to darkness as well.

/


	6. Fragments

**Trauma**

/

"_What is it?"_

"…_I don't sense Lifestream in or near this town."_

"_But?"_

"… _There's something … in there. That building."_

"_Looks abandoned."_

"_I sense people inside with… something else. It feels the same as the creatures…"_

"_Well, Reeve ordered an investigation. So let's go."_

_/_

"… clean up…"

"Food and… when he…

"…be fine, just gotta stay off his feet… wheelchair…"

"Hey, I think he's waking up. How're you feeling, Cid?"

Cracking open his reluctant eyes, the pilot found the faces of his teammates staring down at him, smiling welcomingly. He closed his eyes again. His brain felt like sludge, his side was throbbing with each heartbeat and his arm was aching deeply. He wanted to go back to sleep.

That was, until the previous event's memories caught up to him. His eyes shot open and he lifted his head from the comfortable pillow.

"Where's Vincent?" He demanded, his words slurring.

A hand on his good shoulder pushed him back down. "He's still sleeping. We put him in one of the on-call bedrooms." Reeve.

Cid relaxed into the mattress again, boneless. "Shit, my head hurts."

"Do you want me to call Jackson?"

"No," Cid said, swallowing. His throat was dry. As if reading his mind someone pushed a glass of water with a straw into his field of vision. Yuffie. He drank thirstily, grateful. "How long?" He asked when he'd finished.

"You've been out almost seven hours," Barret said from his left side. "It's Friday morning."

The bright lights were hurting his eyes. Squinting, Cid rolled his head in the pillow to survey his friends. "Red with Vince?"

"And Shelke and Cloud. Just in case he wakes," Reeve replied.

Cid gave a faint nod. "Looked like yer have a lot of things to repair in the Rec room," he humored without enthusiasm. He heard the commission huff a laugh.

"He's getting worse," Tifa said softly from Reeve's side. "He hadn't been that bad before."

"He doesn't know what they are," Cid said vaguely, blinking against the lights. Someone took pity and dimmed them. "He can't understand them, so they keep tryin'. Vince's mind is like a rock suspended on stilts. It's solid, hard, but if the stilts break the rock will still smash on impact… His demons're pushin' at them stilts…"

"We didn't wana tell him about that, though," Yuffie began, an innocent whine in her tone. "How do you tell someone in his state with his powers that they have a few extra occupants in their mind?"

"You don't," Barret grumbled. "Who knew how he would have reacted to that. So far we've got him convinced he's only _slightly_ different from everyone else."

Cid sighed nasally. "What a mess…" He paused then and let his eyes flit over the room. "Why did yer bring me back to the infirmary? Can't yer set me up in Vincent's room?"

"We were _worried_, you ungrateful hack," Yuffie poked his good arm. "Jackson had to check you out in case you'd died or something."

"Well, I'm definitely not dead," Cid winced, slowly pushing himself up onto his pillows. Someone tried to help. "But if I still feel like this in an hour, someone change that."

"When he wakes we'll let you know," Reeve assured him standing to his feet. "Until then get some more rest. I'll be in and out to see how you're doing, but I have a few matters that need attending. I've put them off long enough." He nodded to the room and left, looking as tired as Cid felt.

"He blames himself, doesn't he?" Cid asked.

Yuffie looked at the door. "Yeah. He thinks he should have taken more precautionary measures when he sent the Creature Division to Mayac. He couldn't have known, but try explaining that to him."

Cid blinked as a nagging sensation began to bother him. He saw flashes of Vincent in a town, staring across the street at a tall building. "I think I remembered something… really vague," he said distractedly. He felt the press of undivided attention. "That building… Vincent sensed people inside, with something else he… he didn't say. I told him to investigate." He blinked and looked at his friends. "That's it."

"There were people inside that building?" Yuffie repeated, frowning. "Why would he have picked up on them?"

"Whatever else he sensed in there must have caught his attention," Tifa speculated. She gave Cid a wry expression. "Maybe we should knock you out if that's what it takes to bring your memory back."

He gave her a sarcastic laugh.

/

Dinner time came and went around midday, in which he was forced to eat something or else suffer the wrath of Tifa, who could be pretty intimidating when she chose to be; even Barret couldn't guarantee she wouldn't go martial-arts on his injured ass. The hours dwindled away, filled with boredom and the occasional appearance from Reeve, who seemed dedicated to taking a few minutes from his busy schedule to visit him. Shortly after his second departure, Cloud finally entered to see him.

"Heeeey, Cloud," Cid grinned, holding out a hand as the other blond gripped it firmly, a friendly gesture. "What took yer so long? Where's my tea, delivery boy?"

A smile, slight as they always were, graced the young man's features as, much to Cid's surprise, he revealed a small tin from his pocket and tossed it to Cid. "Enough tea leaves to last you a few days."

"Yer my _one_ savior in this whole dump," Cid clutched the tin, pleased to note it was his favorite brand. He ripped off the cellophane wrapping and tossed it to the trashcan. It fluttered to the floor just short of the lip. "How's Vincent?"

"Still sleeping," Cloud replied, lowering himself into Barret's usual seat. "He hasn't moved an inch… He must be exhausted."

"He was channelin' Chaos' raw power through his own body," Cid explained. "It takes a lot outta him." He caught sight of Cloud smirking kindly and narrowed his eyes questioningly. "What?"

Cloud raised his vivid blue eyes to Cid's. "It still surprises me just how well you know him." He blinked softly. "Five years ago I would have bet my sword that after our mission he'd disappear without so much as a goodbye. That's how… _withdrawn_ he was." Cloud's thoughtful expression reminisced back to the days that brought them all together. "I'd never have believed he'd let anyone get close to him."

"I guess I did somethin' right."

Cloud adopted a vague mimic of an expression Tifa had wonderfully mastered through the years. "That's putting it lightly."

Cid shrugged nonchalantly.

/

He was left to himself an hour later when Cloud went back to relieve either Nanaki or Shelke of their Vincent-watching duty. Barret returned just in time to catch Cid brewing a cup of tea in the small kitchenette along the hall from the infirmary.

"Nothin', and I mean _nothin'_ can keep me from my tea," he stated, brandishing the strainer at the large man with his good hand after catching the disapproving expression.

"That's not what Vincent once told me."

Cid sucked in a breath of feigned offence and made a face. Barret shot him a smirk.

Once back in the infirmary Cid was saved from utter boredom as Barret updated him on the clean-up in Mayac town. Three more bodies had been pulled from the remains, and going by their locations they had been innocent bystanders. There were still three missing members of the CD team.

"Shit, what if it was our fault?" Cid said suddenly at one point during the afternoon. His concussion was hurting him less and less and he was able to sit up (or stand) for longer periods. "What if Vincent blew that buildin' up? What if he _had_ to?"

"Cid, we won't know for sure until ya get your memory back," Barret told him straight. "Waste'a' time guessing, 'cause you're just making yourself feel worse."

The pilot stared blankly at the opposite wall, letting thoughts run wild despite Barret's logic. He was told not to strain his memory, not to force himself to think back, but it was hard not to try. Reeve had informed them earlier that Tommer had passed away, his injuries too severe. Two members of the team were now dead, with another three possibly in the same condition. He hoped Hall would pull through.

This is the reason Cid couldn't deal with absolute boredom. With nothing to do his thoughts started pestering him, and it was never fun. Constant 'what-ifs' plagued him. Many of these revolved around the mission they had been sent on, but they all rounded back to his partner and the condition he was now in. A chill of fear crept down Cid's spine as a vague thought occurred to him; a 'what-if' that he didn't care to dwell on.

Diverting his chain of thoughts, he recalled a random memory of Vincent to take comfort from, and found himself thinking back to a recollection of an investigation Reeve had sent him on – and, unbeknownst to either of the partners, Vincent had been assigned the same.

"_Vince? What're _you_ doin' here? Reeve didn't tell me he'd sent yer, too," Cid remarked inquisitively as he shook off the storm rain from his hands. He had just made it into a classy, five-star hotel – on Reeve's orders – at seemingly the same time as Vincent. They exchanged knowing looks. "That schemin' bastard," Cid exclaimed as he realized what Reeve had done._

"_It seems he takes to matchmaker as well as he does commissioner," Vincent commented, a twinkle in his eyes as his hair dripped onto the lush red carpet of the beautifully furbished lobby. Raindrops clung to his cheeks. _

_Reeve had made a casual remark about staying for a few days at the hotel while Cid was 'working'. Told him to 'enjoy' the hotel features. The mission would be a breeze, Cid could handle it 'no problem'. Indeed._

"_I'd be offended," Cid began, unzipping his soaked raincoat, "if we weren't already 'matchmade'. Cunnin' son of a bitch set us up on a goddamn weekend together."_

"_Treachery," Vincent agreed silkily, watching Cid with a smiling curling his lips._

The image of Vincent against the backdrop of a lightning storm would always be vivid in his mind. They hadn't seen each other in weeks back then, and observant Reeve had arranged their weekend, no doubt as an apology for the workload he had dished them both. Cid hadn't realized he was smiling until Barret questioned him.

"Just thinkin'," Cid replied dismissively.

"Uh huh," Barret uttered, a knowing look on his features.

Amused he was so transparent, Cid chuckled. But his good mood melted into something dark as that earlier chilling thought returned to harass him. A cold icy sensation filled his stomach.

"What if he never remembers…?" he said abruptly into the silence that had fallen. It had been bothering him since he had been told of the situation, and had been lurking ominously in the back of his mind, waiting for a chance to push forward.

Barret said nothing for a long moment, watching the light fade from his friend's face. He knew this had been haunting Cid, and he knew it would come to the surface sooner or later. "He will."

"Yer can't know that."

"This is _Vincent_," Barret told him, leaning forward onto his thighs. "Once we figure out what happened, I think we'll find a way to get his memories back. Hell, it might just be a case of waiting. But I don't believe for a second that he'll stay like this."

Cid swallowed, still staring at the wall. But he said nothing else, unable to voice the torrent of fears now festering in his head, multiplying like bacteria.

"You're afraid to see him again," Barret guessed, his tone low and careful.

Cid didn't look at him. But then, that was all the answer Barret needed.

/

Everything came swimming back slowly, like each of his systems was coming online in a technological fashion. It was quiet, but he sensed a presence nearby. Shelke.

Vincent opened his eyes and found himself lying on a bed under a soft comforter. The room had no window and was dimly lit. The only source of light was from a lamp on a nightstand by Shelke's chair over on the wall. She was curled on the seat reading a book, and must have felt his eyes on her, as she glanced up from her page.

"Afternoon," she said, watching him with a mild disinterest – as was her usual expression. "How are you feeling?"

Vincent pushed himself onto his elbows, observing the room. His wings lay either side of him, draping across the floor. The room was only just big enough lengthwise to accommodate them.

"You've been asleep for thirteen hours," Shelke told him, unbothered by his silence. "Your body needed the rest after the strain it received."

Vincent finally turned his gaze back to her. "What happened?" His throat was dry, and despite having slept for so long his body felt both comfortably rested but heavy with old tiredness.

"You lost control again," Shelke explained plainly. She never minced her words. "But you were subdued before you could cause any significant damage."

A vague feeling of the chaos he had felt in his mind returned, and he touched his fingertips to his temple, unsettled by the way it had made him lose control. Among the white noise, though, he remembered hearing a voice.

"Was anyone hurt?" He asked quietly, his deep voice emotionless to his own ears.

"Not by you," she answered simply.

He frowned faintly at her, but before she could explain – if she was even going to – the door slid open with a WHOOSH and Cloud stepped through with a cup of something steaming. He noticed Vincent was awake.

"Welcome back," he said, crossing the room to hand Shelke the beverage. She thanked him and took a long sip; whatever it was it smelled sweet. Cloud turned to Vincent. "How do you feel?"

Vincent leveled his gaze at the blond. "Not homicidal, if that's what you're asking."

The faintest glimmer of a smile met Cloud's face. "I wasn't, but that's good to know."

Vincent was about to ask when someone was going to finally tell him just what the hell was in his head – he _deserved_ to know – when the door opened again and Reeve stepped through.

"Ah, Vincent. Good to see you awake. I thought you'd sleep the day away," Reeve said smiling as he walked in, the door closing behind. "Cid will be glad to know."

The ghosting whisper of the voice in his ear echoed in Vincent's head and he shuddered invisibly. "I want to take a walk… I need some fresh air." He felt claustrophobic and stuffy, not to mention still thoroughly confused about who and what he was, and they had made it clear they would rather side-step his questions. Somehow he felt all his answers lay with Cid Highwind.

His declaration seemed to falter Reeve, but the commissioner nodded, understanding that Vincent had been confined to the WRO building since his arrival. "I'll inform station guards that you're cleared to walk around the grounds, although for safety reasons I think it best if you stay clear of the training and ammunitions yards."

Vincent was already climbing out of bed, barely taking any notice of Reeve. His mind was elsewhere, and as much as he wanted to be alone, he knew someone would be accompanying him. He felt like an experiment project that they were each taking care of, or like some small puppy creature that they didn't want to leave alone until it was housebroken. Ridiculous. But while he did feel a little resentment, he also understood; he had barely any control of this force inside him, and it seemed only outside interference could calm him. Had he been like this before his memory loss? Had people always been around to control him? What was he like before…? He didn't even know himself. No one had answered his question about where his family was; no one had told him why he had this power. No one had even told him just _why_ he kept hearing things. Just that he was 'different'.

Vincent's eyes drifted to his wings. Well, _obviously._

A few minutes later he stepped out to the fresh air and inhaled deeply. A feeling of _freedom_ hit him suddenly, and with it a strange urge to move, walk, run… fly. Like a domestic animal that wasn't really comfortable with the inside world. A hundred smells reached his nose, his senses sharpening as whatever power he had reached out, detecting each and every life form within the compound, their hearts beating, their auras radiating strongly… He could almost see them as pulsing green entities. How had he been so deaf and blind to these senses inside? It was like the air had awakened them.

"Feel better?"

His companion, or his chaperon as he had begun to see it, sidled up beside him, nodding at the door guard. Yuffie. She seemed to be the one who showed little or no concern around him, even after all he had done in just the past day. The others passed him sympathetic or watchful looks when they thought he wasn't looking, but Yuffie was too carefree and apparently very trusting of him to bother. She was the most relaxed around him, and therefore, he had to admit, he wasn't so much on edge either.

"Mm," he uttered distantly as he took off walking.

They had stepped out into a neatly kept compound yard, with various shrubs providing the only bit of greenery around. Everything else was concrete and steel, from the warehouses dotted about to the metal sheds and walls. It was a maze of dull colors, but it was outside, and the sky provided the only sense of nature Vincent could see.

It was a beautiful day. The sky was bright blue and the sun was warm. It was only then then he actually felt any sensation from the pair of wings on his back. So far they had simply been a dead weight he could barely feel, but now they seemed to absorb the sun's warmth, a tingling wave of pleasant heat blooming through him. Maybe all he needed to clear his head was to step outside. Maybe he could have avoided all that destruction if they knew fresh air could make him feel like this.

Yuffie was talking to him, or maybe to herself, he wasn't sure. He was gazing at the sky, wondering if he _could_ actually fly. These wings weren't just for show, right?

"And no flying off," Yuffie was saying, as though reading his thoughts. "Although, I don't know if you can steer those things when you're _you_, or as… uh, I mean, I've never seen you fly before so I wouldn't suggest it until you, like, get your memory back and know _how_."

He had been half-listening to detect the misdirection she had stuttered, but filed it away with all the other things that no one was telling him. They weren't explaining for a reason… It had to be a good one.

The walk was the best thing to happen since he had woken to all this memory mess. As they toured the outside yards he received many curious (and some alarmed) looks, but no doubt Reeve had informed his men on the situation. Despite this, Vincent felt some of his earlier tension disappear, and he was able to fully stretch his wings to their impressive width – and he had to wonder just how in the hell they grew from his back because they were _huge_.

He was disappointed when they had explored all the areas they were allowed access to. The sun had slowly begun its descent as the evening began drawing in. On their way back, Vincent took one more look at the beckoning sky and hoped he'd be able to meet it very soon.

/

They had laid out a small spread of food in the assembly hall for Avalanche, though Vincent knew it was a pretense to get _him_ to eat. Apparently he had never been big on food before.

A digital projection had been set up to play him footage of previous events and missions – of the few that had been recorded ("for security purposes," Reeve told them), however the files had to be transferred from the security room, and there was a problem with something technical that Vincent didn't understand. Apparently he wasn't big on technology, either, because he couldn't fathom a lot of the devices and systems in the building, which even Barret appeared to understand. The only thing Vincent was sure of in this place was what the WRO actually did.

Tifa, Yuffie and Shelke had congregated to the middle of the room and were discussing something he suspected was to do with him. He had exceptionally good senses, that much was clear, and he suspected they might have come from this scientist fellow, Hojo. Had he, Vincent, been forced to undergo some strange experiment? He was full of questions and speculations, but empty of answers.

"Hey, you've only had one cookie," Tifa said kindly, suddenly beside him. She placed a warm hand on his still bare shoulder (there were no clothes that could currently fit around him, what with two great wings sticking out of his back). "Eat something more, you're thin enough as it is."

Apparently his weight was a running joke in the group, because although he was in no way dying of starvation, he was obviously slim enough to warrant some jesting comments. Yuffie had told him she had never seen him eat before.

"I'm not hungry," Vincent murmured, hoping no one would ask again. He had no appetite. Maybe it was because of his ordeal, or maybe because whatever he was didn't usually eat common foods, but he wasn't really worried.

"Are you okay?"

He hadn't realized that his right hand had risen to the scar above his heart, unconsciously massaging the mark until her question brought his attention to it. He lowered his hand, feeling a strange sensation from the Protomateria.

"Fine," he said distractedly. He felt it tingling in a strange, pleasant way.

Tifa watched him closely, but she didn't press further. Instead she said, "I meant to ask you earlier when you woke, if you… remembered anything. Anything at all?"

He was only half-listening to her. "No…"

"Does anything spark a familiar feeling?" She asked.

He didn't answer her as at that moment the door slid open, drawing his attention not just by the sound, but by the presence walking through it with Barret in tow. Vincent found himself tracking the new man's movements sharply, focused resolutely on him. The blond was visually familiar only from the photos Yuffie had shown him, yet something in his chest seemed to _know_ him. He could _feel_ him.

The man's blue eyes held his firmly as he stopped before Vincent. His left arm was strapped to his chest under a hooded jacket slung over his shoulders, and there was a large, dark bruise visible on his chest beneath the shadow of it. But his eyes were alight with energy. And fear.

"Hey, Vince," he said, a blend of relief, affection and chariness in his strange accented tone. Vincent recognized it immediately as the whisper he had heard right before he blacked out. This man… he had managed to calm him instantly when no one else had been able to. How?

He stared at him cautiously. His eyes were the color of the sky Vincent had been longing for only a short time ago. But they swirled with a hurt he could barely conceal.

Why did it ache to see that look in the man's eyes?

/


	7. Friends

**Trauma**

/

It was heart-shattering to see the look Vincent gave him. There was no familiarity there, no warmth in his eyes that he had always reserved for Cid; only a guarded expression and a cold sense of observation. But there was confusion in his eyes that caught Cid's attention, a confusion that didn't belong in those flawless features.

"Sorry I couldn't get to yer sooner," Cid said, almost whispered. He sounded so weak to himself, so small and lost. He prayed no one else could hear it. "I don't have a healin' factor quite like yours." He forced a shaky smile.

Vincent blinked at him, his body tense and untrusting, as was his usual reaction to someone new. It was one thing to hear about Vincent's memory loss… it was another thing entirely to see it.

"You're Cid Highwind," Vincent finally spoke. It was a statement more than a question.

Cid felt icy cold. "Yeah… that's me," he added quietly, his throat constricting. It wasn't just mental pain that hit him, but a deep, deep physical ache inside his chest where, usually, the strange sixth sense lurked that bonded them together. It had always been pleasurable and warm. Now it hurt.

The gunman's sharp eyes never left Cid's, and the pilot was unpleasantly reminded of the first time when they had first met, years ago. Vincent hadn't trusted anyone. He didn't trust Cid now. He didn't _know_ Cid now. No one had told Vincent what he and Cid were…

"How're yer feelin'?" Cid tried.

Vincent's expression was difficult to interpret. Cid had rarely seen the range of current emotions mixed into one on his face. Barret shifted behind him, overlooking the conversation between them, and Tifa glanced at him from Vincent's side, a sympathetic expression on her fair features. She knew how much this hurt. She had been with him an hour ago, had told him she could see the fear in his eyes whenever they mentioned his partner's name. Cid _had_ been scared to face Vincent; he was scared to see the man he was without his memories, the man who didn't remember who Cid was. She had seen right through him. She had also persuaded him that he was the only one who could get their Vincent back.

"You were the one…" Vincent accused, ignoring Cid's question. He was staring at the blond with that same confusion. Like he couldn't understand him. "You did something to me. I heard your voice."

Cid couldn't look away from the gunman's eyes, couldn't look away from the blatant lack of recognition. This man meant so much to him. But he meant nothing to Vincent. "I calmed yer powers," he answered, his own tone void of life. "You were goin' to transform."

Vincent's brow furrowed. "Transform?"

Cid nodded again, numbly. Vincent's eyes had sharped at this news. He was oblivious to himself. He didn't have a clue what he was; what was inside him. He was afraid, and Cid had the answers. That's all he was at the minute: an answer sheet. Gods, he had been dying to see the man since their separation… now he wanted to run away.

"Let's move to the cafeteria," Cid suggested woodenly. "I'll tell yer everythin'…

/

Time flew away in the WRO rec. room as if carried off on the very wings still sprouting from Vincent's shoulder blades. Cid was dimly aware of noises in the building, but no one interrupted them, no one entered the cafeteria while they sat, opposite each other, on a circle table by the window that was no longer there. Vincent asked questions – he demanded them – and Cid told him. Everything. About his death; his experiments at the hands of Hojo; his extended sleep that had locked him away from the world… No sugar-coating. No side-stepping. He gave it straight. It was hard to choke out.

Vincent refused to believe a lot of it. Sleep for thirty years? No one can sleep that long, and especially not for a man who woke up still twenty seven years old. But Cid persisted, explained, and eventually he accepted, albeit numbly and with only the slightest real acknowledgment. Amazing how when it was all exposed in a string of verbal events that Cid realized just how traumatic his partner's life really had been. He had no family, no home; he'd been declared legally dead, presumably – as stated on his records – in the line of duty, with a statement from Hojo himself that the Turk had simply gone missing. There had been no one for him to live for when he had been reawakened, and no one to accept him. He was reborn a monster, a weapon made from the hands of a mad scientist. He was outcast and a danger. Cid had never realized how desolate a life he must have seen ahead of him. It brought a painful ache to his chest, so strong he was compelled to grab Vincent by the shoulders where he sat and promise him he would always be there for the man. But he didn't. He sat there motionlessly and reached the part in their lives where Avalanche destroyed the Midgar Mako reactors in the fight against Deepground. When he was finished, his tea had gone cold, and Vincent's glass of water remained untouched.

"And after…?" Vincent asked softly, his demands now tamed by the shocking life story he had learned.

Cid sat back and blinked sedately at him. "Then? Then yer disappeared for a while… like yer usually do."

"Where do I go?"

Cid smiled sadly. "I never know. I just know yer like to travel. Can never settle down for too long."

Vincent watched him silently for a second, something obviously passing through his mind that wasn't quite clear. His lashes obscured his crimson eyes as they lowered to the table in thought. He had a lot to process, a lot to accept.

The silence that had fallen around them had established so firmly in Cid's ears that when Vincent broke it minutes later Cid nearly jumped.

"Do you think I'll get my memories back…?"

Cid looked at him for a second, letting the man's smooth, deep voice replay in his head. "Yes," he said firmly, trying to keep any emotion from his tone.

"Were we close friends?" Vincent asked, studying him. "Closer than the others? You know so much about me, and they refused to tell me anything."

Cid nodded mechanically. "Yeah, we're really good friends." He let a smile slip. "Know each other inside and out."

Vincent nodded acceptingly, and Cid could see the stiffness of his shoulders relax slightly, as though they had established their friendship again. "It's strange to think that when I was… went _missing_, you would have been very young."

"Would'a' been just a couple of years old," Cid said thoughtfully. He caught Vincent's gaze. "Now I'm technically older than you."

Vincent blinked as he cocked his head, a gesture that Cid found endearing. "Tell me more about you."

Cid held his eyes for a long pause. They had been talking about Vincent solely for the past couple of hours, and although some vague facts on Cid and the others had been peppered into the explanations, Vincent didn't know anything about him.

The pilot told him everything he needed to know. He covered his background with Shinra, his station in Rocket Town and the space program, right up through their adventures to the end of Deepground. He downplayed his achievements in favor of cutting his own story short, and omitted irrelevant details and events so he could sum up himself in as little time as possible. But Vincent kept asking questions, pressing curiosity for things about Cid that made the Captain both warm and cold inside. He was pleased the gunman was inquisitive, yet to have to explain these things to his partner was a strange, bitter feeling.

"A rocket scientist and a pilot…" Vincent surmised, casting a look of poorly concealed admiration over Cid's face. It was strange to see, because Vincent had always guarded his expressions, sometimes even to Cid; it was just something he did automatically.

"Love the skies," Cid mused, nodding. "It was all I ever wanted to reach."

Vincent tilted his head slightly again. "Is that what pulled us closer as friends? Our affinity for the sky?"

Cid gave a curious frown, blinking at his partner. "Affinity?"

A little confused at Cid's question, Vincent gave the man a long stare. "While I was outside I felt a longing for it." He glanced to his left at the wing that was circling their table. "I felt like flying. These must be used for _something_, correct?"

Cid smiled slightly. "Yer never really liked manifestin' those, so I never did know if yer wanted to take to the air with 'em."

Vincent was noticeably keener. "Have I never used them?"

Cid tilted his head, thinking on his answer. "Not as yer are, now. There were a couple of circumstances, like the Deepground one, where yer were as Chaos, and yer used 'em then. But not as far I know otherwise. S'what I could never understand," he added. "How yer always had the opportunity to soar through the sky and never did. I would have given my right arm for those wings." He grinned lopsidedly.

"Do you envy me for them?"

Cid's smile faded slowly. "Yeah and no…" He trailed off.

"Because of how I got them?" Vincent inquired, detecting Cid's train of thought. It was strange to hear how the gunman could so easily refer to a painful aspect of himself and his traumatic history. He had no recollection of it, merely Cid's explanation to rely on.

"Yeah," Cid said, feeling a little uncomfortable. It was like he was discussing this to someone else completely, a stranger, someone who didn't have the right to hear and talk about such a fragile matter.

Vincent's eyes remained locked on Cid, watching his expression as though trying to understand a difficult book. He seemed to realize that the topic wasn't Cid's flavor.

"What foods do I like?"

Cid looked up, catching Vincent's bright eyes. He was surprised at the topic change, but grateful nonetheless. "Yer hungry?"

The corner of Vincent's mouth upturned into a meek smile, faint as it were. "Actually, no. But back upstairs, when Reeve set out a food table, I had no appetite for any of it. I was wondering if I ate anything at all."

Smirking, Cid leant his good elbow on the table. "Believe it or not, yer could'a' eaten that entire spread three times over. But it's gettin' yer started that was always the problem." At Vincent's frown, Cid continued. "To you, eatin' was always a 'chore' more than anythin'. Never had time for it. But if I finally got yer to eat somethin', yer'd enjoy it. And because yer've got, what, 4 other appetites to satisfy, yer can put away a whole superstore if yer really wanted to. Lucky bastard."

Vincent laughed. It was a quiet tune, but a definite laugh that even Cid had never heard. It was both weird and wonderful to hear. But as much as he had enjoyed hearing it, he would give anything to have laugh-less Vincent back.

The silence fell between them in a comfortable way while Vincent's eyes flickered over Cid's face, darting between his features as the pilot watched back, trying to look pleasant when all he really wanted was to curse whatever bad fortune had taken his Vincent from him.

"I was told you could help me look more normal," Vincent said eventually, gesturing to his wings.

Cid sat up in his chair. "Yeah… they're a bit cumbersome, huh?" He raised his right hand and took the edge of the red membrane between his finger and thumb, rubbing it fondly before he could stop himself. "Yer got full sensitivity?"

Vincent nodded, his eyes on the motion of Cid's fingers.

"Good. Close yer eyes." At the gunman's hesitance, Cid lowered his hand. "Helps with focus," he explained. He watched Vincent eye him uncertainly before doing as told, his shoulders noticeably stiffening again, despite his superior senses no doubt compensating for the loss of one. "Concentrate on yer wings. Can yer feel them? Feel where they originate on yer shoulders?" Vincent nodded once. "Good. Keep yer eyes closed." And he reached across their table to place his palm against the man's heart. Vincent gasped softly, recoiling slightly, but Cid moved with him, repeating his order. A blue light glowed from beneath his hand as he provoked the Protomateria.

"Cid?"

"Sh," Cid shushed. "Concentrate. Focus on Chaos' presence inside you. When yer got that, imagine the wings disappearin' into it, pull them back inside."

He watched Vincent's furrowed brow twitch in concentration, the sensation of his efforts strange to him. He seemed to struggle with himself for a few seconds, and Cid suspected he was accustoming to Chaos' power. Finally, in a bright glow of magical energy, the wings pulsed momentarily before light and appendages disappeared completely. Vincent sagged, as though his energy went with them.

"Yer did it," Cid stated warmly as Vincent's eyes opened, finding the space either side of them free of imposing red and black wings. He turned his crimson eyes on Cid, a twinkle of gratitude in them that almost had Cid reaching across and pressing his lips to Vincent's, like he always did when the man gave him that look. But he held back. This Vincent didn't know about 'them'.

"I feel lighter," Vincent remarked quietly, passing Cid a smile.

"Yer did just lose about a hundred pounds."

Vincent huffed in amusement. "How do you know…how to do that?"

Cid wanted to tell him the real story, so desperately wanted to explain how, in the aftermath of an incredibly intimate night, Vincent had taken Cid's hand and placed it to his heart, telling Cid that he could feel the man's energy synchronizing with his own, lending him focus and order to the power inside him. His wings had transformed in the heat of the moment, a slip of concentration. But Cid had been the one to help put them back.

Instead, he said, "I'd seen yer do the same thing once before. Saw yer engage the Protomateria to channel yer power."

It was accepted, judging by the small nod he received.

"Let's go getcha a shirt. Finally."

Vincent's smile was slight, but amicable nonetheless as he rose from his chair in unison with Cid. He tipped forward on his feet, almost losing balance. Cid half reached for him.

"Heh, yeah, you're wing-free, remember?"

Vincent offered a sheepish look. "It feels like I've lost half of my body."

"Well, technically, yer have. But yer'll walk it off."

Vincent stepped experimentally away from the table after Cid, who had stopped halfway to the exit. It was endearing to watch the man learning to walk again.

"Thank you… Cid," Vincent had stopped and was looking at him. Smiling. "For telling me everything. And helping with…" he waved his hands at the empty air around him.

Cid swallowed. He _hadn't_ told him everything. The most important thing was still hanging in the air over Cid's head, and he just couldn't tell him.

"That's what friend's're for…"

/


	8. Home

**Trauma**

/

_The kitchen door shut behind as Cid kicked off his boots and dropped his oil-stained jacket on the floor beside them. He wanted nothing more than a relaxing bath and a hot drink after such a busy, cold day in the hanger. One of the rookies had doubled his work with their blundering, and he was still simmering._

_Something on his kitchen table caught his eye as he nudged his boots to the wall, and he paused for a second as the implication sunk in. He smiled, feeling his mood lighten instantly as he approached the table and picked up the cup of steaming tea, waiting and ready for him. He closed his eyes as the vapor rose, leaving moisture clinging to his lips. He took a sip. Perfect. Just the way he liked it._

_Taking the cup of tea with him, he moved to the living room, where he found a fire crackling welcomingly. The room was toasty warm and the last vestiges of his sour mood left him completely._

"_Welcome home, Chief."_

_Cid turned to the doorway he had just come through, unsurprised that he hadn't heard his partner's footsteps. Vincent had changed from his leather to a warming pair of black pants and a charcoal gray shirt. His 'comfy' clothes; or as Cid liked to call them, the 'easy' clothes (because he didn't have endless buckles to undo in his pursuit of some skin contact)._

"_When did yer get back?" Cid asked, walking up to him._

"_A little over an hour ago."_

_Cid cupped the back of Vincent's neck and pulled him in for a much awaited kiss, savoring the sweet taste of Vincent's last drink. Chamomile tea by the twang of it. The gunman responded just as eagerly. They hadn't seen each other in months._

"_You feel cold," Vincent whispered against Cid's lips._

"_Yer gonna warm me up?" Cid smirked softly._

_Vincent linked his fingers with the blonde's free hand. "I can do that…" And he led him to the couch by the fire, his grip firm but gentle, his smile teasing but loving. Cid's bad day never happened…_

Cid found a spare navy, hooded pull-over for Vincent in the WRO locker, and with a stroke of luck two pairs of his own combat pants that he'd left in his assigned 'Captain' space. Unfortunately, there were no extra shoes.

"We can call in at home and getcha yer own boots later," Cid said, stuffing the spare clothes back into the locker with his one good hand and turning to watch Vincent buttoning up his dark green combats. Cid had still been wearing patient pajamas from the infirmary, but had changed to a pair of jeans as well. Getting a shirt on over his swath had been impossible, so he had kept the jacket draped over his shoulders.

"Home?" Vincent repeated, lifting his eyes to Cid. "Did we… live together?"

Cid mentally kicked himself. "Weeeeell, yer don't actually have a home – at least, not that I know of – so yer kinda stay with all of us whenever yer passin' by. Mostly with me, that's why yer left some stuff at mine." If he thought about that in a different light, it was actually the truth; Vincent _did_ stay at Seventh Heaven once or twice a year while he was trekking, and occasionally he stopped in Wutai in a personally Yuffie-selected suite. And of course, he lived with Cid seventy percent of the year. Technically he didn't have his own house.

"When can we go? Maybe your home will help my memory."

"We'll have to let Reeve know, he might assign a guard unit to come with us," Cid said, leaning against the locker and letting his eyes travel the sight of Vincent in such different clothing. Getting his partner in attire other than his leather was a mission and a half, so it was both pleasant and frustrating to see him now looking so normal and goddamn hot. Speaking of which, Reeve should have retrieved Vincent's trademark clothes from the hospital by now.

Vincent lowered his hands from the waistband of the combats, but they slid dangerously low down his hips and he was forced to catch them again.

Cid grinned. "Yer a bit thinner than I am," he stated, turning to dig around in his Captain locker again. Sure enough he had a spare army belt, which he handed to Vincent. The man threaded it through the loops and tightened it securely. Overcome with the sudden urge to wrap his arms around Vincent's waist – or at the least touch him – Cid felt his smile slip away and a cold sensation slip into his chest.

"Something wrong?"

Pulling himself together, Cid looked up and found Vincent watching him. "No, no… just a little headache," he lied, bringing his good hand up to poke his temple. Before the focus could fall anymore on him, he stepped towards the exit. "Let's find the others and let Reeve know we'll be leavin' for Rocket Town."

/

Avalanche had gathered to Reeve's office, nursing mugs of coffee or tea (Cid was pleased to know his personal tin hadn't been used, and was still in the infirmary). Barret had thrown himself on the single seater in one corner, while Yuffie and Tifa perched on the large oak desk. Cloud and Nanaki were stood by the wall-windows behind Reeve in his chair. They all looked up in unison at Cid and Vincent's entrance. The heavy vibe in the air informed Cid they had probably been discussing their dismal situation.

"Cid, Vincent," Reeve greeted, standing politely and placing his empty mug on the desk coaster. "How are you both?"

"A little more informed," Vincent said.

"Least you look normal now," Barret commented, waving his hand at Vincent's wing-less figure.

"And _so_ different in normal clothes," Yuffie emphasized, looking him up and down in what was clearly an expression of surprise. "Your pants are a bit short though. Are they Cid's?"

"Yeah, he can wear them 'til we get him his own stuff back," Cid replied, turning his eyes on Reeve. He could see both the commissioner and Tifa studying him closely, trying to read his mood. Cid deliberately wiped his aura blank. "I figured I'd take him home. Get him some footwear, see if… _anythin'_ jogs his memory."

Reeve nodded in agreement, sympathy etched into his face. "Of course. He won't stand out now." He offered a small smile but Cid didn't take the bait. "But are _you_ up for it, Cid? Your injuries are still healing. Jackson told you to keep off your feet."

"I'm fine, I won't be doin' anythin' strenuous," Cid waved away the concern. He hated it.

"Alright, but I want you to check in with Jackson before you leave. And don't say you will when you won't," Reeve gave him a look, knowing Cid too well.

"Yeah, okay, fine," Cid griped, barely containing his temper, avoiding everyone's eyes.

"Hey, maybe your trip home will jog _your_ memory, too," Yuffie chirped when it was clear no one else wanted to say anything further.

Cid's mood lifted just a little. "Yeah, hopefully."

Reeve shifted. "I would strongly suggest an escort unit to accompany you for both of your safeties."

_Funny,_ Cid thought. Vincent would usually be the man Reeve would assign to protect people. It was strange to think that Vincent needed personal security. Especially in Cid's own freaking town.

"They won't intrude," Reeve added in a softer tone.

"Fine," Cid said dismissively. He bit his lip sourly as he tried to work out his next request, not wanting to say it in front of everyone else. Luckily, Tifa was a wise young woman.

"Mind if… _I_ tag along?" She asked, stepping from the desk she had been leaning on. She could sense his uneasiness, detected his discomfort. Damn he loved her and her woman's intuition.

Cid nodded," yeah, yeah sure." He came off as nonchalant, but they both knew he'd feel better with her there, even if she was most likely going to be waiting outside with the guard unit. He was a big, fat coward with this emotional crap.

"Take one of the _Ghosts_," Reeve said, referring to the small ten-people aircraft carriers the WRO had available, (designed and constructed by Cid and Shera). "I'll assign together a team to accompany you."

Cid nodded in thanks and finally turned to Vincent, who was stood by the door and looked at him expectantly. He looked like a completely different person… no bandana holding his bangs back, no intimidating leather and cape, no sultry expression that he saved just for Cid… Damn, it really hurt.

"Cid, you okay?" Yuffie's voice broke through his thoughts.

He looked at her and realized his hand had risen on its own to his chest. It might have looked like he was in pain from his injuries – which, now he thought about it, began to ache noticeably. His broken arm throbbed persistently, pushing through the meds, and his ribs were suddenly burning painfully. The headache he had concocted to Vincent minutes ago was actually now a reality and was torturing him with every heartbeat.

"'M fine," he brushed off irritably. "Is _Ghost II_ in the hanger, Reeve? I'll take her, so have the guard unit assemble there." He moved towards the door, guiding Vincent by his arm. "Tif, see yer down there." And he practically pushed Vincent from the room and closed the door.

In the pursuing silence that fell, Yuffie turned her brown eyes on everyone. "Is Cid alright?"

Barret eyed the door. "He's pretending to be."

Reeve sat back in his chair slowly, intense eyes on the surface of his desk. "This has to be so hard on him. It doesn't seem like he's told Vincent about… 'them.'" He leant his elbows on the wood. "I can't imagine someone I'm that close to losing all memory of me."

"It's not just Vincent's memory loss," Tifa said softly, wrapping her arms around herself loosely. "They're connected to each other in a whole other type of way. I think Cid can _feel_ how different Vincent is."

"When he did that," Yuffie repeated Cid's action earlier, her hand over her heart, "it wasn't his injuries?"

Tifa shook her head. "I don't think it was…"

/

_Ghost II_ set down stealthily in Rocket Town just over an hour later, blowing up dust as her stabilizers smoothed her decent. Cid checked her systems and powered down the engines, going through the post-flight routine (with one arm – which wasn't as awkward as Cid first thought). He could feel Vincent's eyes watching his actions curiously, sat in the seat diagonally behind his. Cid activated the landing ramp and the team of seven escorts marched down it as he rose to his feet. Tifa followed them, casting both men a glance. Vincent was staring out at the outside light, and Cid could see the slight anticipation on his face. He couldn't tell whether Vincent _wanted_ to remember or not.

"C'mon," Cid said, wincing as his head nearly exploded. He wished he hadn't stood so quickly. He felt himself sway as everything else flared up, but managed to steady himself before Vincent saw. He waited for his partner to descend the ramp before him, joining him on the ground as they both surveyed Rocket Town.

"It's smaller than I pictured," Vincent said, casting his red eyes over the scape before them. It was an overcast day, but bright nonetheless, and he squinted as he looked.

"Everyone says that," Cid responded, a thin-lipped smile forced onto his lips. He had a sudden craving for nicotine. "Let's go."

He walked Vincent through the small streets of his town with Tifa, throwing out greetings to the citizens as they passed. None of them had heard about the explosion, so everyone that saw him asked in concern about his swathed arm. (No one seemed to find it strange that Vincent was walking around without shoes).

"Just a little accident," Cid shrugged stiffly.

Truss, who approached on the street before his house, shook his head fondly with a smile at Cid's vague explanation. His gaze passed over Vincent fleetingly before double taking when he noticed his eyes. "Vincent? I didn't even recognize you without that red cape!" He exclaimed.

Vincent's expression twitched minutely, not knowing how to respond to someone he didn't remember.

Cid felt obliged to offer _some_ sort of explanation. "His old things got dirty, so I found him some spare WRO gear. Listen, Truss, I'm gonna have to ditch yer, got some things to take care of."

Thankfully, the man was understanding, and said goodbye as he trotted off. Cid led Vincent and Tifa down a neatly kept cobble street, hoping no one else would recognize his partner and start a conversation. He loved his town, he loved his neighbors, but he couldn't deal with them right now.

"Who was that man?" Vincent asked.

Cid glanced at him. "He owns the local tavern, and an old friend of mine." He paused, and then added in fond remembrance, "His current mission in life is to mix a cocktail that can get _you_ drunk… or, at the _least,_ tipsy."

"I can't get drunk?"

"Apparently not. Truss has thrown everythin' he's got at yer, and then everythin' he's got _together_, and yer still didn't even show so much as a flush."

"Wow…"

Cid looked at Vincent. He had never heard the word 'wow' from Vincent before. Is this what Vincent would have been like when he was a Turk?

"Even I had a hand at mixing something for you," Tifa said smiling. At his cocked head, she explained about Seventh Heaven.

They finally arrived at Cid's house and halted at the gate. It was decorated with gouges and scrapes, the careless and accidental scars from Vincent's claw when he used to open it, back before he started using his other hand. Cid wouldn't get rid of it, no matter how many more scratches it gained.

"I thought you'd have the biggest house," Vincent remarked not unkindly as he gazed upon it. "Being the main town man."

"Don't need a bigger place," Cid replied simply, running a hand along the top of the gate. "This has always been just right. Cozy…"

Tifa placed a hand on his shoulder. "Why don't you make him some tea? The sights and smells inside might trigger something. I'll stay out here."

He didn't look at her as he nodded and instead lifted his gaze to his house; a place where he and Vincent had made plenty of memories. Taking an invisible deep breath, he pushed open the gate and led Vincent along the short path to his kitchen, feeling the dread in his heart weigh more and more with every step closer. What if nothing helped Vincent's memory? What if his whole home couldn't drag something to the surface, and Vincent would remain this stranger in his lover's body? Cid couldn't live with that.

The kitchen was never locked. No one in Rocket Town would dare break into Cid's home. So he pushed it open and stepped inside, immediately greeted to his own scent and his own familiar sights. A vase of flowers had been put in the center of the kitchen table, courtesy of Shera, but aside from that it was as Cid had left it a few days ago.

Vincent hovered inside by the door, as though waiting for permission to enter further. Cid ached; Vincent never needed to ask permission because he _lived_ here.

"Have a look around," Cid told him, his throat had constricted without him noticing and his voice came out weak. He swallowed, battling back the throbbing headache still pestering him. "You always made yerself at home."

Vincent's eyes flickered over everything, from the kitchen counter, across the sugar, coffee and tea jars, over the quirky, lopsided toaster Cid had maintained over the years, and around to the photos on the wall of various aircraft models. He moved to one of them.

"The _Highwind_," he read. "You named it after yourself?" He asked, looking at the Captain over his shoulder.

Cid shrugged. "My last name's kinda fittin', don't'cha think?"

The corner of Vincent's lip quirked. "Yes, I suppose it is." He turned his eyes from the photo to the living room on his right, his gaze exploring the house before his body followed. He moved from the kitchen and Cid trailed behind, watching him absorb his surroundings, hoping with his heart in his throat that something familiar would spark his expression and he would remember.

Vincent spent a few seconds looking at more photos of aircrafts on the walls before his gaze fell on the one picture of people. It was sat in the center of the fireplace mantle between red and black candles. Cid stared at it, too, as though he hadn't seen it in years.

"That's… me?" Vincent asked, tone incredulous, eyes stuck to the group photo of Avalanche. "I look so…intimidating."

Cid smiled faintly from the archway. "Yep… Yer knew how to scare people."

Vincent studied the image for a second longer before raising his eyes to Cid. "What kind of person was I?"

Cid's smile faltered as the question caught him unawares. "You were quiet… yer didn't really say much, but when yer _had_ somethin' to say it was always useful and wise. But yer had yer own sense of humor, yer own wit that was just you…" He thought back to a few examples, calling up the memories like they happened yesterday. They resurrected warm feelings. "Yer the best marksman I know. And probably one of the strongest people on this planet…"

Vincent watched him, blinking softly. It seemed he wanted to say something but couldn't decide what, so he turned his attention back to the photo. "Is that Aerith?"

Cid's eyes darted to the flower girl in the picture. It had been taken during their journey, when they had stayed for the night in a small, friendly village. The locals had hosted a lively outdoor party by fire torches and bonfires; there had been dancing and home-brewed alcohol. It had been an enjoyable, fun night, memorable in Cid's mind because that night he and Vincent had shared a room, still strangers to one another. Vincent's nightmares had woken them both up, and it was then when Cid realized the man wasn't completely human. It was also the beginning of Cid's interest in Vincent.

"Yeah," Cid answered, snapping himself from his thoughts. He had told the gunman about Aerith during his explanations at the WRO. "That's our flower girl. Yer seemed to tolerate her much more than the rest of us durin' our trekin'."

Vincent's eyes flittered over the smiling picture of Aerith where she stood between Cloud and Tifa and then back to himself. He was stood at the back, looking surly and trying to blend into the darkness. Barret was next to him, Cid before them both.

"It's the only photo we ever took of us all," Cid stated.

Vincent turned to him. "You don't have any others? Do you have any more of me?"

"No. Yer weren't a photo person," Cid said, smiling sadly. Something nagged at his throbbing mind in response to his comment, but he couldn't identify it. It wasn't doing his headache any favors. "Does anythin' feel familiar?" Cid asked hopefully, waving his hand to indicate the house. "Anythin' comin'back? Anythin' at all?"

Vincent's brow twitched and he shook his head. Cid's heart fell. Vincent looked downhearted as well.

"I'll take yer upstairs," Cid told him in a drained tone, feeling like he'd lost a major organ; like a lung. "There might be something up there that'll jog yer memory."

Something deep down told him it was futile; nothing in this house would help. Vincent would not remember anything, and it hurt like hell to think that. As Cid took Vincent to the staircase his headache flared up, agitated by the emotional strain he was feeling. His vision blackened for a second and he had to stop four steps up.

"Are you okay?" Vincent asked from two down.

Cid swallowed, feeling nauseous. "Yeah." _Lie, always lie._ "Probably just hungry," he said, continuing up the stairs. Jackson had sworn his hairline fracture wouldn't split his skull open…

There was nothing up there that spurred a memory, nothing that helped bring back the Vincent that Cid so desperately missed. He had hoped the bedroom would at least provoke some kind of sensation in the gunman's brain… But no. Vincent only seemed confused why Cid would show him, curious why the pilot would think there were memories for him to uncover in there. It left the room feeling alien and unfamiliar – almost as if Cid no longer had any connection to it because Vincent didn't. He felt unwelcome in his own home.

"I'm not getting anything…" Vincent admitted quietly when they'd been through the whole house. He sat himself dejectedly on the edge of Cid's bed and gave the various furniture pieces and objects a look of sad regret. "Cid… will I ever remember?"

Swallowing hard, Cid fought back the urge to just drop where he stood, both physically and mentally exhausted. He wanted to cry – seriously. A grown man who hadn't shed a tear in about twenty years wanted to grab the man sat on his bed, bury his face in his neck and just let go. But he couldn't, he had too much dignity and pride. He could never let this Vincent see how weak he was; how much this was hurting him.

"Yer will," he managed, balancing a tone that sounded relatively normal despite the edge it was hanging on. "Maybe yer just need to stay here… need time for it to come to the surface…" He wanted him close, he wanted him so close, but he couldn't have him in the way he wanted, so he would make do with a friendship arrangement in the slim chance it would pay off. _Please, just remember…_

Vincent lowered his eyes to the floor, looking lost and lonely. Cid wanted nothing more than to lower him fully on that bed, wrap his arms around him and promise him nothing like this would ever happen again. Gods, how it hurt knowing he couldn't.

The room took a plunge into darkness and Cid had to take a moment to realize it was his vision that had blackened out. The headache was splitting his temples open, driving knives into his brain, almost bringing tears to his eyes despite his forceful attempts to hold them back. His arm seemed to be competing with it, throwing out so much pain he wasn't sure where the point of break was anymore. His ribs joined in, too.

"Maybe I should have a look at the other places I stay at," Vincent's voice filtered through the shrill drone in Cid's ear.

"Yeah… Yeah, I'll take yer to Tifa's," Cid mumbled, feeling his stomach twisting. The back of his throat churned and it took most of his strength to fight the wave of nausea.

"…You don't look very well."

Cid could have put money on how understated that comment was. He didn't want to imagine what he must look like.

"Cid… Cid, are you okay?"

He could sense more than see Vincent getting to his feet, but before he could answer he heard a dull thud and a shock wave vibrate from his knees. A second later his equilibrium was askew, and the last thing he registered was Vincent's worried voice calling his name over and over…

/


	9. Discovery

**Trauma**

/

**AN:** Sorry for no updates last week, I was really busy and completely forgot. Oops.

/

_Cid shifted slightly in the plump material of his feather pillow as he slowly ascended from sleep. His awareness rose sharply as the mattress dipped and he gave a morning groan before cracking open an eye._

"_Yer always watch me sleep?" He mumbled thickly, closing his eyes again._

"_Always," came the reply, his deep voice smooth and soothing to Cid's morning ears._

_The pilot's nose woke up. "That tea?"_

"_Perhaps."_

_Smiling, Cid opened his eyes again to find Vincent sat on the edge of his bed, a steaming cup of tea in one hand. He had already changed into the clothes Cid had bought him, looking fresh and awake; the complete opposite to himself._

_Cid pushed onto his elbow and accepted the mug, sensing Vincent's amused gaze as he took a sip. The sweet twang of honey roused his taste buds. Vincent knew just what to wake him up with._

"_Thought you were takin' off today," Cid said into the lip of his cup._

_Vincent tilted his head in that slight gesture of his. "I decided to stay for the morning."_

_Cid set his tea down on his nightstand and then wrenched his partner down on top of him, smirking deviously. "Gonna leave me a partin' memory?" He drawled against the gunman's lips._

"_I can do one better."_

"_Yeah?"_

_Vincent's lips trailed along the bridge of Cid's nose, his hot breath tickling the pilot's face. "I'll leave you a parting mark, as well…"_

"_Mmm, yer know just how to wake me up," Cid grinned, chasing Vincent's lips with his own. He was already pushing his partner's shirt up when he kissed him roughly, tongues battling. They parted momentarily for the pilot to pull off Vincent's top, which was tossed aside as they clashed together again. Cid's hands tangled in the other man's hair, loving the feel of the strands between his fingers._

"_Cid…" Vincent breathed between kisses. "Don't go in to work today…"_

_The pilot released the man's lips. "Yer stickin' around then?"_

"…_I want you to come with me."_

_Cid ceased his attentions and looked up into the eyes of his partner. His cheeks were flushed faintly, his pupils blown wide with arousal, but his expression was soft and utterly devoted. An expression only ever reserved for him._

"_Okay," Cid answered with a lopsided smile._

_Vincent said nothing more as he resumed their actions, slowly and erotically. He could have asked Cid to blow up the town and the blond would have quite happily done so…_

He knew as soon as his mind was aware what had happened. He also knew immediately that he was in his own bed. But something didn't feel right, aside from the dull, shooting pains at his arm and side. He opened his eyes slowly, feeling sluggish and disorientated. He was in the center of his bed, but that was wrong… He always slept on the right so Vincent could sleep on the left. Where _was_ Vincent?

The curtains had been drawn, but it was still daylight outside. Cid summoned what energy was gestating in him and pushed himself up. His head protested straight away, producing a deep, dull pounding that forced him to stop and wait it out. It simmered down a few seconds later, but that just made way for the aches in his broken arm and ribs to hurt more.

"Ugh," Cid groaned, in both pain and annoyance. His eyes panned around his bedroom, vaguely confused as to what day it was and whether or not Vincent was away or simply downstairs waiting for him. _Man, he's gonna be pissed I let my arm get broken._

He climbed painfully slowly out of bed, his vision tunneling for a second before he rose to his feet. He'd been given something drug-wise; he could feel it coursing through his veins. If it was pain medication it was _shit_.

When he made it to the hallway he detected the sounds of voices from his kitchen. Straining past the humming in his ears, he caught the feminine tone of Tifa, and made his way slowly and carefully down the stairs, using the wall to support him as he followed the sound of her voice. When he left the last step he saw who she had been talking to, sat around his kitchen table.

"Someone get that kettle on 'cause fuck, my head hurts," he announced himself, shuffling from the staircase door to the nearest chair.

"Cid," Tifa said in surprise. She got to her feet and pulled the chair out for him. "How're you feeling? We thought you'd be out a lot longer." She left his side to attend to the kettle, preparing him a drink.

"Feel like shit," Cid grumbled, blinking one eye and then the other. He turned to Vincent on his right, a little miffed the man was giving him such a blank expression. "Sorry for just collapsin' on yer like that, Vince. At least yer didn't have far to carry me." He gave a small grin.

"I was a little concerned," Vincent told him, a note of relief in his voice at Cid's apparent recovery. "But I'm glad you're fine."

Cid's smile faded. He frowned. Before he could ask Vincent why he was being so formal towards him, Tifa set down a small bottle of capsules on the table in front of him.

"We got Giles in when you collapsed," she said. "He said to take these for the pain. Dosage on the label." At Cid's scowling she adopted a stern expression. "He said if you don't and you collapse from the pain again he'll tie you to a bed at the hospital and keep you there until you're well."

Cid gave his best grumpy face and crossed his arms. "Fine," he griped. His Rocket Town physician, Giles, knew how much he detested pills, but he also knew how much more Cid hated being confined to a bed. Turning to Vincent, Cid then added, "I guess I wouldn't mind takin' 'em if I got a more direct deposit." He grinned.

"I'm sorry…?"

The grin vanished. "What's wrong with you?" Cid demanded, his brow furrowing in confusion, Vincent's own face nonplussed. "Yer've been acting weird to me since I came down."

Tifa, a look of concern on her face, stepped in between them. "Cid, are you alright? Don't you remember?" She looked at him carefully, a solemn flicker in her brown eyes, and added softly, "Vincent lost his memory… that's why we're back here."

Cid opened his mouth to protest – how absurd, Vincent can't lose his memory – but stopped. It rushed back to him in dappled patches, like ice trickling rapidly into his brain and down his spine. That uplifted feeling suddenly took a nosedive.

"I think the pain meds or your incident upstairs might have put a dampener on _your_ memory, too," Tifa said gently, watching him like only a loving, worried friend could.

Cid swallowed. "Oh yeah… yeah, I…" He shook his head, feeling strange and lightheaded. How could he have forgotten such an important thing? Stupid medication! "I remember now… weird… I guess I just woke up in a fuzzy haze."

Tifa's long lashes blinked sadly at him, but she smiled kindly and put a hand on his shoulder. The kettle began to whistle so she returned to it. Cid's eyes found Vincent's, and he felt like a chocobo caught in headlights; he didn't want memory-loss Vincent to know anything about _them_. He might be repulsed, completely deterred by the notion, and by Cid. It could affect their whole relationship… He wanted nothing to get in the way of Vincent's memory coming back, but if the current Vincent found out about their partnership he might not _want_ to return to his old self…

What if he decided he didn't?

"Cid? Here's your tea."

He pulled himself from his thoughts to see Tifa's hand setting down his cup. There was a white-chocolate cookie on the side of the plate; his favorite type. He didn't feel at all hungry though.

"Vincent was telling me he couldn't remember anything," Tifa said as she walked around and sat on Cid's other side, leaving the chair between the two men free. "I thought we should take him to Seventh Heaven when you're up to it."

Cid forced himself to nod casually, taking his tea in hand as he did. "Yeah… gotta try, right?" He planned to give her a Highwind grin, but it failed and instead he barely managed a small smile. She saw, she understood. If nothing in his home could bring back Vincent's memory then it was unlikely anywhere else would. She could only guess at the level of disappointment he felt.

He finished his tea as quickly as his body would allow him, wanting to get out of there. It didn't feel like home anymore, because the one thing that made it worthwhile was technically no longer around. He chewed his cookie without really registering the taste, and before he could get up Tifa was already taking his cup and saucer away. They had both been giving him sneaky glances, wondering if he was okay now. Damn, he hated the way Vincent looked at him; without any affection whatsoever.

A few minutes later Cid handed Vincent a spare set of his own clothes, the ones he dubbed the 'easy' gear. While the gunman was changing, Cid found himself asking Tifa for her aid removing his swath, helping him pull on a long-sleeved shirt and reapplying his sling again. By the time the men had finished, it was time to leave.

Tifa contacted and informed Reeve of their plans, who in turn contacted the unit of guards in Rocket Town and told them that the three Avalanche members were returning to _Ghost II_. They were back in the air within the hour, however Cid was forced to co-pilot while he observed one of the guards take the controls. He was not happy about that.

/

For the third time in one week Yuffie stepped through the sliding doors of Mayac Town West Gate hospital. This time, however, she was helpfully directed to Dr. Geoni's officer, where the doctor was there to greet her, a large cardboard box on her desk.

"Miss Kiseragi, was it?" The doctor asked. "Commissioner Tuesti phoned and said you'd arrived. Here are Mr. Valentine's things. The commissioner asked for all blood samples, x-rays and scans to be relinquished over. I can understand that he doesn't want such evidence anywhere but in lockup."

Yuffie nodded as the doctor opened up the box and began to take things out for the girl to see. Vincent's cape had been folded on top, and was hung over the back of the extra chair in the room. Yuffie noticed that it didn't so much as flutter… Strange, considering it flickered all on its own when Vincent wore it. The bandana came out, the gauntlet after that (eliciting a comment from Dr. Geoni about such a weapon), and then the cut leather and boots. In a small cellophane packet were five samples of blood in vials. The doctor explained that Vincent's blood was bewildering, simply unexplainable, and they had taken more samples to conduct more experiments. Yuffie wondered whether or not that was all of them… doctors could be sneaky when dealing with something new and exciting.

"These are the x-rays we took, to determine if any bones had been broken or fractured," Geoni said, turning on the lightboard on the east wall and sticking up six x-rays. Three were of the joints where Vincent's wings emerged from his scapula, one of a full body, one of what looked like the chest area but was obscured almost entirely by white, and the fifth of his skull. "To see them in x-ray somehow made it seem more real," she said, staring at the wing joints. Yuffie wondered what the entire wing would have looked like, as apparently they had been too big to get under the machine.

"There weren't any breaks, then?" Yuffie asked, just for clarity.

The doctor shook her head. "No, by the time we took these I think even his wounds had nearly healed… we left the bandages on, though."

Yuffie's eyes studied the pictures with vague interest, until she spotted something that caught her attention. She pointed at the x-ray of Vincent's skull. "What's that mark there?"

Geoni looked. "I don't honestly know. But the Retrievers knew about it, they said it has always been there to stop Mr. Valentine's true form from emerging. They told us not to touch it."

Yuffie frowned hard. "What? That's not true at all. That's what the Protomateria does," she jabbed her finger at the chest x-ray, understanding now why it was almost all composed of white. "I don't think _that_ mark is supposed to be there."

The doctor exchanged a look with her. "There _was_ an injury to the upper temple, right over that spot. I didn't assume they'd be linked."

"_Are_ they linked?"

Geoni looked baffled and turned her eyes back to the picture, to the tiny but clear disk-shaped object. "I don't really know. But if you say it's not supposed to be there, and your friend came in with a fatal head injury, perhaps it's something that needs to be investigated…"

Yuffie stared at the small object. Something was twisting her gut, and she couldn't decide if it was good or bad.

/


End file.
